This wind that blows between murmuring leaves of rained tree is the only thing that’s mine.
It’s abstractly everybody’s…that’s why it’s mine too.
Some of these mischievous motions were also there when I first kissed a wet girl in her dangled lips…
It was there when I first thought about death after writing my virgin poem…
It was there when the limitations of four walls brought out the sapience of a depopulated ocean in me…
How can I ignore such silent vicinity.
Here I am loosing a nail at a time… everybody’s gone…night is going like a drunken ship…
and this unhinged space of air showing me all those previous moments it has kept inside it’s morbid corners,
i am seeing only the boundaries of moving figures.
I will be satisfied if for once and all I can disappear in this romantic nothingness…in this opened floatation.

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Photograph: Google Images.