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Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
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Dirty room

 My clothes stink.

I look like a street man,

But I stay in a room

With space,

Light,

Tap water.

What do I lack?

Maybe nothing.

But I am lazy.

Stuff left there

Will remain there.

The fused bulb 

Will not be replaced.

The clock which is ten minutes slow

Will not be adjusted.

We clean up stuff

So that other people may see it neat.

But who will come here?

For whom should I clean this up?

For me?

No

Let my room remain messy,

So as to always remind me

Of my messed up self.


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