Secrets undefined.

I admit-

I've been keeping a secret online diary somewhere else for a long time. This feels like saying I've been housing a mistress in secret. She's very insecure, sexual and weepy.

This diary is sounding more and more unlike myself, it will stay only for my shopping at sgst. In the mean time, I'm at a_paperflower.

I like moving onto new floors. Even if it's just a door away.


The way you are

It's like the sun swallowed up by the earth
Like atomic bombs in reverse
As if a glass could contain the sea
That's the way You are in me
That's the way You are

-The Afters

Lone flight

A small and unimportant update.

I've been unforgiveably reclusive. I'm sorry if I have not been replying all your messages/ emails/ attempts to meet. I'm sorry Char, Serr, Edna, Ping, Kesh, Eileen.

You may never see this but I'm sorry. I'm going to withdraw into absolute hermithood for a while. Will call when my enthusiasm is not so weak and my mind not so frail.

'Darling I'm waiting for you'.

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I'm blessed so much so I don't have enough width in my heart to realise

It's going to stay with me for a long long time-
The picture of you waiting for me at the lift lobby every evening at 6 o'clock after work, taking my hand, taking my bag, a 'I've-missed-you' kiss, the surety of knowing you will be there, that is already immortalised, it's forever to me.

They are sinking themselves into the recesses of memory, pressing and pushing themselves against the walls of time and curling up there, unmoving, sleeping with me.

'What could be more romantic than lovers locked in a kiss until they crumble to dust with the weight of time'.

For anon.

'Your syllables
they are still on the tip of my tongue
rolling around like pearls
smooth and perfectly sphered,
cold and sweet to the tastebuds
but indigestible

I'm swimming across the breath
of years, taking my right turns and
leaving what's left to yesterday's
cinders, and the ash-greyed hopes
they cherished another day
I know was for nothing.

We dived, heartfirst.
Touched depths and
charged toward the watery sun,
floated in weightlessness. Drowned
in our immersion.

In our best days
we were killing gods
of paradise.'

- In our baptism


Not true that my interests flit from one to another.
Poetry is soul.