‘Pass’word :: Corpse#13


Linked with one another in confounding anonymity.
Everything so I feel this invisible bonded world veil in trembling motion.
A cold strangeness grips this shrinking mind.
Encroaching acts of nemesis.
Could sense this nibbling darkness strong enough.
For, I am beginning to doubt any other known form.
Particularly those half-lit optimistic molecules in somersaults,
sneaking  through closed window hinges in striped parallel rays.
Shadowed bands are what I see in them, this light-averted pervert.
I doubt myself thoroughly.
My feeble self staggers amidst choking necrotic hopes.
Hopes swayed life so long in oscillations of some lengthy saga.
Deception is perception.
Mistaken takeaways ever are not errors, just mistakes. You suffer.
Constancy never crashes.
Never dies a natural death, for where had been in place at all?

Hanging at shallow heights in escalation,
I see my remnant winding up moments.
Feels like a desperate documentary viewer.
Sparingly sticking life shrivels in prismatic eyes of my flying layers.
No, but yes! Nothing is undeniable. Not shocking anymore.
Apocalypse awakens my drifting reflective soul, collapsing
wasted days of opaquely solidified body in a conscious kill.

This d-day…
Seems such planned…
so planned to be unplanned to much maddening extent of deathful penance.

Screaming all known quarters,
still nobody hears me, not recognize slightly even.
Writing unto the shivering core,
Yet no words churn out its near-worthy meaning.

Her frail face casts a mysterious smile in deep sarcasm.
Her huge red tilak out of Pooja ritual posing stern questions,
Mamma, have you ever hugged or kissed me like you do sister?
How can you be abrupt in leaving with voluminous love debts?
And, I note her sister had fallen asleep unusually soon,
not wanting to see my last piece of failing face?

Unending pending equations consumes me in steeping salty cries of a Dead Sea.
Unheard acoustics of wild whimpers float out in deafening amplitudes.
Airy self tempts last pulsating flesh to cry out loud, aloud.
For, it’s now or never.
For, the two don’t know to cry this way tomorrow.

p.s: Published 6th December 2012 3:49pm by self on du-poetry



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