INSANE SANE on Clubhouse

Bio

Currently at Yale.
Separated. Exiled. Homeless, somewhere in the dark of Tagore's aloofness and Gorky's despair.
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I write, to pour my heart in words, but is it possible?
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"My dreams of you"

I saw you in my dream last night.
Like every other night, since we last met.
I am slowely losing count of my nights and dreams of you.
They have noting new.
There is darkness and cold.
And we stand on that old endless road.
And the "blue bird" in my heart chirps and makes me restless.
So I ask:
How are you?
And you are silent.
And I say, "I miss you."
And you are silent.
And I plea, "talk to me."
And you are silent.
So
Don't you hear me?
Or
Don't I have a voice?
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October 18, 2021.
New Heaven