P.K Freitas Biography

Tonight thoughts of you
Keeps haunting my every movement

It is always this or that
...

Last Monday, grandma told me in between her gasping for breath that I smell bad
My armpit reeks of lost melody
My general odour is burnt incense laid on a corpse
...

My heart is soiled with tears
My cheeks are smoldered with wet blue tears
My eyes are drunk with weariness
And now my vision stays blur underground
...