A Round Moon
After several soggy days, it is a full moon tonight.
Anticipating a climatic change, I left my door ajar,
Though little does it change the monotony?
Not a single night we spent in this house without rancour
and I am quite accustomed to it now.
Today, while I was doing my bed
a China Vase, fragile as it is,
shuttered into pieces near the dining table;
and I heard poison, spilling from the mouths,
targeting morals and ego again.
Thus the moon seemed more round to me
than it was, before I was born_
I might have remembered it or had felt it before,
from the inside of the_
Gloom In Air
I was in a morgue,
at least I think it was, morbid and solitary.
Morbid in a sense as the embalming tables
rattle echoingly, creating a somber hallucination;
also those cold lockers carry vessels,
that once life forgets to breathe in;
Exhausted, propelling bodies,
each with surmised dreams and goals,
never thought to end up this way,
packed up, etherized and motionless.
I remembered I am the air,
inviting the gloom in this room, wandering, though still.
Still in a sense as no action excites the realm,
a pin might fall and would create a voluptuous sound.
Again, the floor rumbles when a new inhabitant
finds home here, or when a resident pasts its purpose to stay.
Useless, ominous habituation,
where nobody believes viability to perform,
nobody looms to be competitive,
only deducing demoralized state of life itself.
As I crawl along the walls, I know,
outside that door (of mortuary), there’s a world, which
ultimately ends up here, in the same way.
And I will follow up their gloom as always.
On foot, I walked the distance
it takes to return home.
My workplace being in town
and home on the other side of human livelihood,
I venture through the pastures.
As sun sets, the mosaic blue paints the sky
and the day’s toll fatigues my senses.
I recall when the dahlias greet me,
“Welcome home”, it captivates time, to an extent
that it forgets to remind me how late I am.
But I know there’s no one at home.
Only loneliness awaits my footsteps when
my key clicks in the keyhole;
and a total darkness, darker than night
crawls back into the corridor
to jump back at me,
the very next moment I would step in.
So as no actions retain me, I grace sleep_
Lying down, staring outside,
I can hear the lights illuminating the streets,
while the moon takes a break for an another day.