I have reached that point
Where everything is sore
And everything hurts.
The skimmed thoughts
Curdle, in the saltiness
Of today.
And the seamless eternity
Of world's deadpan gaze
Leaves me vexed.
And in the abyss
That bleeds
Of virginal tears,
I long to find anchor.
I wish you'd touch
That spot, sore
And soothe away the ache.
But, I remain alone,
Wasting-
Like a barren womb,
Spilled off its seed,
In a tide of relentless fury.
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Oh - and Oh-Oh!
ReplyDeleteThis is a quietly violent piece of writing...! And its that undertone of melancholy, laced with some unusual and painful metaphors that really touch one!
Especially this one, at the close:
Like a barren womb,
Spilled off its seed,
In a tide of relentless fury.
thanks so much! yea, a violent one at de spur of one such moment! thanks a bunch memaa!!
ReplyDeleteBut, I remain alone,
ReplyDelete"Wasting"-
Like a barren womb,
....
Wasted?
Anyways I guess that would be an apt title :). Sorry for the intrusion nevertheless. But I would never choose to be the deadpan to such a poem even if the whole world refuses to agree with me :)
@prabhu datta das
ReplyDeletethanks a lot for ur suggestion! :) n thankz for de read!!
Like a barren womb,
ReplyDeleteSpilled off its seed,
In a tide of relentless fury.
u kill with your words.....:(
thanks so much for those words, shab :)
ReplyDelete