songs for man

I


Patience is a virtue; thank cosmos my mother was/is a garden junkie.


[ I am confused,
I do not remember you.

Oh!

I do not remember the coughs, I only recall buwaji, Sunny, lovers, walls, blankets, all of them and it, concerned over my chest noises.

I do not remember how you called out my name. My name has become foreign due to all these bideshi tongues. How did my name play your lips, I can't recall.

I do not remember kisses, were there any at all? Though so many kisses lived and died, I do not remember loving, most of all. ]



But underneath and undying, you are a seed. Who knows what flowers will bloom?


Patience is a virtue.




II



Five years is a long time.
While one month,
18 days is a long time too.

Let us live with elastic parameters,
because time, affection,
& longings remain relative.






III



I am fond of gardens, overalt.

We are cruel sometimes.