In sultry mornings, when ghosts of the nights’ dreams recapitulate, I mourn the departure of the little waif lost in the wasteland of my heart.
I can still visualize him, cold and naked, shivering in the dark, and crying.
Better! He didn’t fit in. All rues aside, he didn’t fit in.
Sometimes we can come undone with whatever we did, sometimes we can’t. What say you love, which one of those times is it?
And when of questions, I ask too much? For me, yes. But I ask so. To cogitate of being with you, around you, or even in the imagination of your presence, Love.
And moments, made heavy with breaths, dissolved in thin air. I relive them to live. And how I live them, these images of your glistening skin, brushing against mine, and a mélange of desires? I tremble already, as I trembled, the beauty, love, passion. A collage of these memories when, for once, for once lunacy ruled over the rationale, have glued themselves to the fragments of my being. Do you know, Love, they obliterate mirrors, nullify the dissonance between me and my personage and let me be me, resurrected and naked in the warmth of your lap this time. And how could I mar them with a self-righteous frenzy—these memories that send tremors down my spirit in an orgasmic ecstasy? What an episode of rebirth unbeknownst to the flesh.
Talk to me, my inabilities, murmur in my ear; what to say, what to write, to make her hear, to make her understand? How to locate coherence, lucidity in this paroxysm of my restlessness, to establish the connection, a communication?
These words that I form mock my naiveté and I war with these, like that little child who is alone in the wilderness, cold and naked, and crying.

Achtung baby
The night falls and darkness cloaks the epidermis on my body until all the bulging veins will become invisible to the eye: your eye.
Hear me out, before the night falls and this being becomes another fragment of unceasing dark.
Talk to me; let the wind sway in ecstasy as it carries your sweet voice to me. Let it resound all around and whisper heart rending melodies to me. Sing for the love that has to trialed; sing for the pain that has to be endured and sing for the joy that will sojourn for ages as this moment crawls away.
Look at me, because this time, this instant, you can suffuse me in through your gaze. Let me in now and hide me in the infinite labyrinth of your mind, before the fall.
Breathe in, Inhale these words and let them weave the magic of transformation for the moment these words cease to exit, I cease to exist—exits as I do now, this moment. Only your transformation in relation to these words will remind you that this moment was real. I was real.
Say hello to goodbyes for a parting shall begin with a rendezvous.
Do not look away; even if it hurts let me disappear remembering your eyes in awe… for me.

Achtung baby, as I farewell.
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In the seven ages, I shall have my vengeance. You see, the first of seven will answer the question of what, the second of why, the third of when, the fourth of how, the fifth of whom; the sixth will justify these questions with questions.
And then the seventh shall finally arrive.By then I’d have pondered upon the mysteries and their genesis; and upon the capacity of cognition to devour a soul piece by piece in the infinitude of its labyrinths. I’d have written the greatest eulogy of all. I’ll take your hand and we’ll ride on those fiery chariots with indefatigable cherubs, disguised as horses. We shall have our feast then. Under the smirking red sky, in a belladonic haze, we’ll paint our masterpiece— in blood.

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