(I)
Eyes opened; a tree
Smells, tastes of the garden— citrus;
Adorning the habiliments of brown.
Hands, more hands
Thump, thump — the sound
Of moulding, crushed into a fossil
Of the dust on these ancient walls.
Values trickle down the gullet
Under the shades of cultivation.
I am fresh.
(II)
Mouth opened; a paper
Smells, tastes of the grime — sour;
Resonating the honks of adolescence.
Branches of agency jut out
Denying the caress, the eyes
Engorge on the bursting spectre
Of worldly stimulations.
Raucous emotions, roaring laughter
Amidst the sticky notes of existence.
I thrive.
(III)
Ears opened; a pen
Smells, tastes of a washed cardigan — clinical;
Reflecting the white of absorbed memories.
Roots of self question
The hands of the past.
Under the cuts and scrapes,
Runs the red.
With disillusioned eyes, shivering fears,
The self rattles in the empty can.
I survive…?
