Now

Photo by Sasha Freemind on Unsplash

Night is wounded

and the blood oozes through hours

till dawn

painting the skies red.

A jagged memory

comes alive

and twists and turns

like a dragonfly with a broken wing

and dances some more.

I am dreaming,

from a dark recess I hear your voice

now,

it sounds the same as before,

I laugh and cry,

I plead you to save me,

but you show me your fingers and count of years

‘You are late,’ you say.

sometimes you don’t even know what you have missed

till you see it again.

‘But I am here,’ I say.

But you wave at me

passing through fog

disappearing

never to be seen again.

Time, time

nothing too sublime

thoughts are just tokens

to get by from day to day

unsatisfying

old age and dying

vanity, defying

the idea of birth canal

to funeral,

the carousal

of waking up,

work and workouts

and money and poetry

and sleazy laughs

and idle talks,

clubs and bars

bookstores and cars;

soon everything

loses meaning,

yet holding on to something

like Jack at the end of Titanic

dying.

Rage, rage

carves me open like rib cage

a dark hollow

will I find a heart there?

my insect brain

calculates the pleasure

and avoids the pain

what can I get from other people

sick!

a fucking post on Instagram

that is all I am

the earth is spinning

or my head is (?)

I want to fly

but the gravity is inescapable

everybody tugs at me

in their direction

like a swarm of zombies.

And now

you are grinning in my head.

I tell you to stop

it feels awful like

salt on a fresh cut

stings like hell but

I am still happy to see you.