the splitting migraine and the half moon who offers no solace
Tag: Singapore
half moon the half dead faces at the bus stop staring into oblivion
blessed be the autumn rain the little ones sing and scream
grey tidings she brings the song of the monsoon etched in our very being
filter away the lightning and thunder and you will hear her name
each year she returns with an army of grey needles to punish frail flesh
like a bitter lover the monsoon wails at concrete towers
far off the lightning and the blinding flash within the skull
overcast sky this autumn day your touch grows softer
namaste to you and you and you and yes me
