Degenerate Literature
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Making of Misfits
We build walls around us,
Brick by brick,
Impenetrable.
We lived behind walls passed on,
Generation to generation,
Inevitable.
And one chilly day,
the night sky of a saner world
Penetrating through the cracks on the walls,
Seem swirling as the Incomprehensible-
Like everything else.
Dead End
The reality of a dead end rubs in the wound
teeming with dead fish in
the luminescent libation of rosy dawn.
The cherry crimson dies out
Slowly and stealthily
To reveal the eternal cerulean-
Still and steady
Like the coldness of doom.
There's no clamouring wriggle now.
I wash out the white signs of left out desire with cosmetics.
Benumbed
Your memories are a booklet with
conscerated words gone chrome.
I try to conjure the same pain-
as a sparrow that leaves the warmth of the nest
To take a flight to the uncertainties.
The pain is a benumbed void.
Like some missing pages I never read before.
I carry this sacred gift by you.
The bags change but it remains-
An omnipresent God on the ignoramus atheist's shoulder.
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