Aparigraha : 'cause hoarding feels like rotten flesh

I want to cave my poems in the museum of your heart forever If you allow me?In the midst of the flower shower she loosens the white glitter sick panthers off her hands and let go of the cascades of fidgeting pink skirts and Melbourne drapes. The clock strikes twelve and not every Cinderella retrieves home some scratch the leftover foundations pots and chew lips to drag the pumpkin back home counting upon the non-onerous shaky feet that speak of blood from in between. and an empty stomach doesnt shut up for a second do darling drag the pumpkintill free food isnt a fiction tale. ©Jaya Chaudhary many more concerning chaotic households child abuse failed friendships trust issues unhappiness and letting go of things one holds for a long while now. The book is a collection of poems from the households of normal civilizations growing gradually at its pace and changing with time.