Tag: Bhutanese writer
-
something nihilism or whatever
love, we have nothing to talk about here,the future is fucked.and what our grand ancestors once thought we would be now lies in the gutter;rotting with our own indecisiveness. it toils with carols in the hands of those homeless, heartless colonies. hiding in the cracks of the wallsleft by some abusive father.it lingers, in some…
-
jaded eyes
every drop of tear,every ounce of ocean i spilled from my tarry eyes;it dispersed into a rainbow. a thousand shades of a tapestry reflecting my tragedy in vain.a marvelous hue to the sinless eyes that imparts a divine ecstacy.my smell embedded in the atmosphere but how was i not aware you were only an alluvium…
-
astronomy in autumn
he laid a flower on my lap, it was almost wilted and bruised but he said it was still a flowerand it looked pretty; pretty like me. i put a bandied upon the scar on his hand. he smiled, i did too. then we looked up at the pure august sky as i kept my…
-
Random piece from my journal
I take care of myself the way I once used to take care of the minds that I ought to be in love with. I place flowers next to my bed and hang the brand new canvasses up the wall. I do so many things, to make myself feel better and feel happier, understanding that…