a concrete monstrosity separates: the blue of dusk from summer’s blaze
the demon in the corner of the room sulks quietly never knowing why this man smiles
the night has declared war upon our flesh as bodies melt into bedsheets
surviving your gaze of winter: perhaps then it is meant to be
to quiet the voices: detach from the warmth of summer
a deeper shade of grey fills the belly of the city with trauma
cloudfall: fire like hair curls and cascades upon the dusk of skin
she walks through the veil jaded and unprovoked by the impostor that goes by the name of: monsoon
hang the dark of my skin out to dry in the blue of dawn
phantoms hang swaying in place of the morning dew
elancharan gunasekaran