Rings of Smoke

These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.

adios

i have played with desires, and a likely fire to burn my hand.. stole a few embers, to set alight my cold cold heart.. but ice is for burning just as good.. and so i return today… somethings;not mine,and niether yours’… i return to you, some ragged dreams,feverish in their intensity.. and deaf with desire. [...]

  • About The Line under the Blog Name

    The lines generally are from some poem which I have, at some point of time or the other, loved. I do not mean, by including them, to be snotty or pretentious- but I would love it if you could identify the lines, and take much joy if you were interested enough to search them and read the original poems. If not- you can ignore them.

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