I don't understand my own sex,
sometimes.

In India and China, girl babies
do not hold their value like rupees
and yen. Hardly more
in other places, behind burqas
and desks and military posts
and kitchens with three children
clinging and a husband emotionally
absent.

Lightning clashes
Thunder booms
sky drizzling rain
upon the moon

I walk among creatures
of the night
Among things one
would never see
in daylight

You dream of us
waking in a cold sweat
thinking
we are things
best not met

Bed sheets are soaked
they seem Alive
Start moving around your throat
to tie

You gasp trying to
Scream
sounds of your resist
Swallowed
by a dream

of happiness

having traversed this continent
over so many decades and years
I feel happiness
is a consequence of some important things

Firstly
its food, clothing and money brings in happiness to many

Secondly
as teens grow up
to become young gentlemen and women
Sex is the longing
initially it was love of mommy and siblings,
If any
replaced by pets

Thirdly
in the long run of life
work aside
a hobby is must to pass
most of the blank time

what is love
but a deceitful game
of exposure
and contamination
of the pure self
to compromise and exchange
for an image
that is not you
essential soul
now dispersed
among those
that once were loved
with truth and trust
enthralled in lust
longing to share
a beating heart
with another
to dance in fairytales
but fairy tales are but tales
lies and betrayals
that offer only a temporal
experience of so called
love.