There is a strange

oldness about,

stillness about

this place that

makes me uncomfortable.


It is haunting even –

clashing with my thoughts

that run,

and me,

my restlessness

and my eagerness to do



The well-kept room at the


that is used by

no one –

is a mockery of the mess

that is me.


Ever wondered why the birds

and the trees don’t see ghosts ?

The ghosts you see,

are just the ones

you bring with yourself.