I fall prey to the Holy Ghosts of past,
and, witnessed chaos and bewilderment of eluding paranoia.
Once again, I got bewitched
into the chasm of vagabond,
into the seeping harbour of wonder,
Just when he found,
How, I was torturing my constellation
to erase projected guilt.
But, he forgot to see,
those tortured constellation
are my neon sign searching everywhere,
for love in everything,
splurging the unknown,
with one sole thought.
was able to stand to the atrocities of her mind, or the gospel of her lost paradise,
and, always looked forward to the rain of her happiness,
in the frozen nights or in wake of her ingratiating feelings
finding her peace.