Numbers that never go beyond 

A certain amount 

Unpredictable fluctuations 

But predictable depletions 

Never rising yet 

Always have enough to keep on falling 

I am starting to develop a fear of checking my account balance, just like how I instinctively avoid the mirror as well as weighing scale. 

Random thought: if a disaster happened, money wouldn’t matter because it will all burn away and no longer becomes a status, but a consequence. 

So why am I so hard up about it now? 

Dollars and cents shouldn’t define us. 

But it shapes my lifestyle. 

That’s fact. 

Speakers’ Corner. 

Speakers’ Corner 

A board kept empty 

To always appear spacious 

For alternate views 

And space to breathe

But really, 

It serves as a warning for

Thoughts that beg to differ 

A statement of all thoughts that came


Vanished, perished and condemned 

Behind bars we can never see 

Stifled and silent suffocation 

To never speak

Floating Fingers. 

My body vanishes and my mind wanders away 

Away into the blinding white matter of space 

Space of all emotions and my floating fingers 

Fingers left drifting along with no more weight 

Weightless and carelessly trying to hold on 

On to pockets of fresh air and win over gravity 

Gravity that suffocates and sinks and smother 

Smother all rational thoughts and, only emotions 

Emotions in this blinding white space of nothing 

Nothing to grasp, so lost and confused 


My fingers keep floating 

Aimlessly drifting 


Air – for breathing, for space, for growth. Also, for death to be frozen in time. 

Black and white 

Adds up to gold 


In the Sun 

Oxidation ritual of 

Ammonia air 

Filling in the gaps 

Burning the tongue 

Ash and dust

Silence is 




Gentle fingers 

Caress dead leaves 

Reflected in the lake

Of birth 

Phone Call. 

Desperation calls 

Hands shaking and eyes darting 

Breath strangles 

Voice stuck between throat and conviction and the will 

Words repeat 

Thoughts incomplete 

Desperation calls 

Static noises mimicking the heart 

Breaking and blood pounding 

Emotions mix 

Anger the only companion of sadness 


Desperation calls 

Language does so little when your body says so much in moments of pure emotion.