Shades of mellow

Every time I walked the road I thought of you.

You wonder what you're missing.

Every time you pack the corners of my heart just like your sleeves-something's creasing.

You're an untold story.

 You're a story I read when I know not why the world spins the way it does.

Its funny how you're absence makes me believe in Alice and her wonderland.

It's funnier how you're presence isn't just the same.

If the story dies before I let it,  I'd find you looking for me.

If the story goes on forever, You'd find me strange and bewildering.

I wish our story could then be the worst story that ever was written.

Oh , how much I'd like that!

For It'd then be a story we remember for being passionately imperfect.

Passionately lacking in everything that is forever.

I could then walk  on and on while I sing for you( say when I pack the corners of my sleeves ).

Just like you would. 

Just like you used to.

Just like the story would demand.

No more no less.

Oh I'd rather keep finding my way into your wonderland when there would  be none.

I write you just like You write our story.

I hate you just like I love our story.

(Yes, I know you love the riddles too!)

Mellow drapes of a mellow sky ,

A mellow guitar and a mellow you.

What a mellow desire  in those mellow eyes !

A garden of mellow tulips and tulips that pour mellow on you.

How I wish I wasn't insanely blue.

Strings sing a song for you.

Rising in the mellow shades of your skin, I draw the shapes of a mellow tune.

When the crazy in me loves the crazy in you!

Everyday I fight a fight and when I'm winning, I feel something's missing.

Everyday you close a chapter of the book we've been weaving, tell me what is freezing.

Now that you've left the pages blank again, I see how the story wasn't  imperfect.

I see how there is no knowing the truth.

Why when you've stitched my lips, you talk to me?

I talk of you with a strange pause ,love.

I walk like the pages unfurl in the wind ,love.

Speak of me, will you? 

Hold me close ,will you?

Tell me our story, will you?

Do we wish we were less naive!

A Million Crimes But One.

She stole a card with his name on it.
Turned it upside down and drew a grave on it.
She tore her pillow and sliced her hair.
She kissed the mirror and felt it flare.

She twitched her legs and writhed in pain.
She dreamed of a fortress and a mad horse being slain.


Lisa,love, it's 4am.
More dreams to sing and men to plunder.
Lisa Lisa, you're getting no younger.
More wood , more fire.
This world needs a blunder.


She saw him running down the hall ,flowers hidden in the folds of his wrap.
She accused the heavens and sang to the rain. 
She fought  with the oceans and she cooked for the maid.
She held her honor on the thinnest of blades, then kissed it softly and let it waste.


She rode the snowman and ate the toad.
She cut her veins and laughed at her soul.


Lisa, love, its 4pm.
More dreams await and men feel the hunger.
Lisa Lisa,you're getting no younger.
More love , more anger.
This world needs a blunder.