I don’t need tame or fame: All I want is a baby.
Nineteen letters for the lady who sits naked in the lobby.
Love is for her, she is mad or perhaps, love is deficient.
I am born from blue, A place where rules are broken: I broke them.
Eat me, feed me, but you don’t look like the type: you are not trying.
Next Saturday was his wedding! Keep me in the dark, save me from unknown pains, we were never meant to be.
I am done with free fucks, reborn maybe or a different way of fucking freely: holding me.
Sadly we have our smiles born out of sheer knowledge of blissful memories.
Stop! Be careful.
Let me go please, I am floating, dancing while the music plays from afar.
He held me and danced for long, I pray it does not end soon.
FIFA on TV, you left me for a shy introverted complex bisexual!
I am mad, thanks to my mother.
Light me some cigarettes, nose rings and earrings and pussy rings! Let me be your bride.
Don’t betray me, don’t be my Delilah.
The world and I is in a race, sometimes she outruns me, most of the time, I am faster; unending race of coming and goings.
Don’t betray me, don’t be my Delilah: portray me, be my deliverer.
I don’t want reign or fame: all I want is a baby.
Sixteen poems for the lonely, red sticks for the heavy.
Love is a word for sad people or a drug for people who are torn.
I am born.