I'M IN MY ROOM
Sunbeams crawl into my room
and licks the silhouettes of my heart’s graffiti
with the plight of the bright world,
My pillow sings the song of light's intimate invasion to my ear,
My room has become a mess of revolutionary upheaval; the whole fragments of my room cascade the tells of oases; it does not greet the apricity and the clouds now; instead, I sleep putting the curtain down.
The carpet has the furs of kittens; it has become wrinkled and embraced the muck, and the chair is filled with untidy, soaked clothes. My shoes are here and there, along with the tissues, packets of food, and the littered dustbin at the gate. All are synchronising the void, and here I sleep on a not-so-bright bed sheet; I haven’t changed it this week. There is a stubborn stain just beneath where I lay my chest; it’s shrunk at my foot and stained with the soil of the garden I visited last...
and licks the silhouettes of my heart’s graffiti
with the plight of the bright world,
My pillow sings the song of light's intimate invasion to my ear,
My room has become a mess of revolutionary upheaval; the whole fragments of my room cascade the tells of oases; it does not greet the apricity and the clouds now; instead, I sleep putting the curtain down.
The carpet has the furs of kittens; it has become wrinkled and embraced the muck, and the chair is filled with untidy, soaked clothes. My shoes are here and there, along with the tissues, packets of food, and the littered dustbin at the gate. All are synchronising the void, and here I sleep on a not-so-bright bed sheet; I haven’t changed it this week. There is a stubborn stain just beneath where I lay my chest; it’s shrunk at my foot and stained with the soil of the garden I visited last...