Netting Neither love, nor hatred, only a colourless sadnesskeeps falling,crumbling,these days.Our faces look like other people,how......

I am cheekbones lit in his eyes,dappled dark hair descendingtowards soft dip of my breasts.In the......

i alwaysremember thefirst time i mistookthe dulcet desire for daringdevotion—the steamy ways handstangled in half-lit rooms......

it transpires with a honkthat shatters terra’s atmospherea mute swan sundering through gravity’s larynxlike a winged......

The dark cloud in my hand wants no more than this land that flies past in......

✕ ‹ › Jacques Derrida, in his 1995 work, Mal d’Archive, spoke about the feverish desire......

My friend Dhritvan goes to sleep every day after our class ends at 1:30 pm. “It’s......