Monday, December 12, 2022

Stillborn Selves

 Within this puny flesh, there live sentient pieces of aborted selves that are at constant conflagration with one another aspiring to steal the limelight of consciousness: a poet, a mechanic, a philosopher, a sociologist, a psychologist, a cultural critic, an artist, a chef, a writer, a filmmaker, a film critic, a cinematographer, a philologist, a linguist, a historian, and an orator, densely condensed into an unwitting flesh and of frail spirit...

Sunday, December 11, 2022

Notes of Soliloquy

      I cannot remember the last time I wrote to you, it must've been ages since our last correspondence. Forgive me for having done so, believe me when I say that it has always been a great priority of mine to write at the earliest convenience, but still, I chose to refrain from writing anything that has nothing of substance and form for I know better than be a nuisance on your part.     Once, I tried to write...

Tuesday, December 6, 2022

Masterstroke

 Casually languishing about this limbo of which I am the sole master and maker; treading lightly and carefully so as to not singe my soul from the fires of my undoing. For what it's worth, a masterstroke is not born from the comforts of heaven but from the gates of he...