A dream meets another dream under the lemon tree, and fruits turn bitter as if they are angry. I wear my blue apron and pick all the fallen fruits, the one that has tasted soil even with such great height. A fruit speaks to me and pulp sprinkles out. You won't believe the imagery but … Continue reading Citrus dreams
Open wounds
It's been months since I have broken down, over the bathroom floor, flushing the world while washing sins out of my hair, - a daily ritual of an incomplete flower. among those who see me like I am an idol who can be worshipped for I have the light, (unfiltered) among those who know me … Continue reading Open wounds
The Poetic Elixir 
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