We'll put up feigned politicians / And their fake promises instead

Tell me about this life you live behind the curtain…

What matters when there's a Motherland to defend? 

face to face, 20 taka in my pocket and this keyless map do you think love ever ends?

Pebbles strewn pavement Keep drawing me back

I hope you fight with your mother when you have a migraine, / I hope there's a holud ceremony playing item songs right beside your building

at night I look past my window / moon like a bruise hoisted on the shoulder of onlookers / as they draw their curtains

you don't recognise yourself, / everything is lost like a fish in Lethean space. / you have mistaken truth for love again

Here are a few things I learned in the one month we haven’t spoken

I’m but a butterfly, not a bird; Why do I want to soar high?

Tell me I am not a house without exits. Leave

I jump from ship to ship, / fly dangling from the claws  of a huge bird in the sky / till my toes scrape mountain-tips. 

Where there's no scent of mother, but only a sweet sense of comfort in the touch I remember the warmth of my mother's lap

It’s been so long since we last spoke that I don’t think I can talk to you without confessing something. There you were, standing before me

Wishing you a happy new year! / The coming year? No, years ahead—

When I come to you, I become a tree  Trees have roots 

My heart is an oligarch: A staunch, pot-bellied, knuckle-cracking middle-aged man lounging carelessly, lazily  in his sitting room with his limbs spread out on a settee

The first pulse, in the midst of a whipping maelstrom, 

Do you want my hands / Will they be enough to keep you warm

It is impossible to distinguish when, but I think My loss of faith coincided with your arrival