Adrift...

I don't feel your pain, my love.
Though, believe me... I try.
Your moist eyes, your hesitant tears,
Your desperate pleas, your nameless fear,
All you say I try to do,
I try to feel what I hear
But it's no use, and we've begun to drift,
And become ever less near.

Elegy of a Missing Book...

A single empty space, amidst the rows of text,

That I observe, my thoughts perplexed

I know not why or how or when

One of my only friends, have been annexed.

Long days I spent, gathering the tomes,

My wealth and energy spent

Row by row my collection grew,

My wine was their pages’ scent.

Tattoos...

Getting inked (tattooed for the uninitiated) seems to be one of the more catching trends among the country’s youth these days. Oh well, we knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. The influence of western culture does get to you after a while no matter how hard you fight it. Say no to peanut-butter-and-jam all you like, escape the strands of flossing… but eventually something like mosh-pitting at a rock concert will grab your fancy.

The reasons for getting yourself inked (permanently… not the temporary street side bullshit that wide eyed village girls get done with stinking paints) are many and various. They start from the definitions of body art and the markings created as being expressions of self… all the way up to (or rather, all the way down to) looking hip and impressing the ladies.