The saint vs the Master of her Melody

Like one looks at a thief that has been caught red-handed He looked at me after our sing-off session I could hear his thoughts the way his eyes took measures of my words Weighing my story stone for stone… “Is it true is it true? Has she ever been robbed?” Suddenly he was the drunken …

Manifesto of the robbery

Perhaps the aching joints are the manifesto of suppressed emotions… For all the times I’ve exploded in my loneliness… For the times I wrapped myself around a thorn bush-lava disguised as a huMan… For the broken chair I had to fix People of age should know better than take a seat on a child’s chair… …