Why The Sun Sets Early

Walking home under the light of a dying sun,

Thinking about why

I always feel lonely before dawn.

Ask me if I’d like to go with you

So that I can say no

Even though we both know I mean maybe


You have no idea how early

The sun sets around here


Walking home under the light of a dying sun,

My shadow on the concrete stands in front of me





For the love, I’d fallen on
In the swampy august dawn
What a mischief you would bring, young darling.
When the onus is not all your own
When you’re up for it before you’ve grown

From the faun forever gone
In the towers of your honeycomb
I’d a tore your hair out just to climb back, darling
When you’re filling out your only form
Can you tell that it’s just ceremon’
Now you’ve added up to what you’re from

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Far Away

Two loud children throw rocks at the birds.

Cars come and go,

But I stay here looking at the world.

I hear laughter; I hear the sound

Of a tiny life falling from the sky to the ground


The innocent can be brutal sometimes


Frozen eyes can’t travel. I can’t destroy this distance,

But my heart dreams of you in a rainy country




Almost a year has passed.

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my neglected fish tank


Sometimes we wake from a dream and realize we’ve been dreaming some part of that dream over and over again. This morning I woke from a dream with the knowledge that I had dreamed about the same fish tank many times in the past.

The fish tank, covered by some kind of sheet, had been neglected by me for such a long time that no fish could possibly be alive. So I left it alone and continued to ignore it.

Eventually I decided to remove the cover, though I really did not want to. But I did. To my surprise, most of the fish were alive, some were sick, and some were dead, including two fancy goldfish.

I decided to rededicate myself to the care of my fish. I started by removing the dead ones with a net.

What part of me have I given up on? What part must…

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Your smile was so beautiful I didn’t even care to look at

All the pretty girls in mini skirts


Too bad, we’ve grown

Apart. Too bad, but truth is that

I don’t miss you at all.

Still, your smile was so sincere

I wouldn’t mind seeing it tomorrow

Under the lights of a crowded party,

Where, full of anxiety,

I’d hold your hand and ask you

To immediately drive me back home




This is probably not a poem. Not sure what it is. Who cares?





Love is like a butterfly; so brave, so

Fragile sometimes.

It landed on your shoulder,

But you’re not very fond of bugs.

You said no,

And scared it away. I saw

Your blue veins and pale

White skin.

I think I will never kiss

Your beautiful hands




Yes, I’m nostalgic today. Reposting this again after an entire year.


Photo: Man Ray (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 1890–1976 Paris)