A mirror-view of my viewing eyes, as if
gifted with an invisible cameo role, standing
afore a rotting creature, donning a doubtful
surgeon on an imperative task of cross-section.
Feels like I glimpse flashy red-tinted
mirage of fluidized waves overflowing
my bubbled transience of a timed-out fleshy mass.
It’s only impulsive now to wear on this flaming
lens of indulgence as an excitement
upon monotonous mind-greys
I get shameless each time as I do this, would label
an unr(/s)easoned myopic…dissecting an open secret self-hidden,
this ‘love ‘in blind search within flirty frames around
Oh! How meticulous probes I do in utmost
sincerity at atrocious close range to relish each
others’ explicit laid down ugliness..
Could feel something pricking me in numerous simultaneous
guilt needled pi(/u)nches inside,
All along had been in games of a serial kill
….of time to reasons to that miniscule part of assumed pure self
How rare a whore would this reflected self be to plug
all intake pores by rusted redundancies of septic’ iron wills?
And still hauntingly demand in a pretty sexy humming whisper for a pithy
insertion of hard-core gentleman statement (unfound and unfulfilled though)?
Oh no, don’t ever dare near this autocratic devil in cries of masked
subjugation, and in dire need of an immediate resurrection!
I am an outcast in my own eyes…
Fallen down deep to angered core of one’s own earth’s submersible
depths, any lengthened hands of forgiveness cannot revoke
me to existential groundedness
As the oscillating shadows encroach in louder echoes,
“Why would one try to fetch another in an enslaving
prison, in the name of some four lettered word?
Is it only to get obsessed to that extent of sickening obnoxiousness,
And to be frowned at as bulky filth maggots knocking tight- shuttered
doors of….well, the hunter or the hunted?
Immaculate is not my search and freedom is not my breath.
Eyes’ to eyes’ converse again,
“Go now, fly out of easily saleable skins or narrowed lanes of rented
minds stuck up with various hued stigma,
Find the unseen elements of binding truth in floating airy enigma,
Abstractivenss is you…And your purpose
Get un-attracted by caustic glitters of physical gutters”
As I enter within in an inner traverse
folding my two-some beings to a nearing oneness,
a stormy cyclone unveils a ghost of dust clouds in
need of a bitter denial and a brutal burial , for my survival!
The cemetery that I shall built for its end ritual
would smell rarest flowers of divine intoxication to be such
overwhelming to cleanse long-stood limestone
mounds of ghostly disintegrating whiteness..
…. This floury cold dust of blandness smoke choking
any new birth of a welcome change in its anarchic monotonous
run of a lonely mechanical mill, playing nerves and hormones
at its crooked will of lethargy and deviance..
Chalky maelstrom swirls me in its motionless
whirlpool of insipidity, would these off-white haloes
zeroed out to a much sought out hue-less abstracts?