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Too hard a heart, for the profundity of a prolonged lightning rod
Of darkness-drenched bestial blessings
Take two Tuesday evenings, for the pain, and the pain to come of your fractious future lives
Excess remains merely base access, denied
Don’t dangle those discount transactions like root vegetables, dried tubers
The mirror makes jagged meat of the front entrance
Another gaping yawn, in the pitch and yaw, merciless tilt, of my southern-tempered orifice
In presentation and somber demeanor, I remain a director for the directionless
Call me Cinderella; pray these doors don’t behead you on the way out
Some coffee, surreptitious cakes, does more for my frenzied ignited state, of replicated cognition, than ten screws or a thousand bolts, of her choicest fancy, ever could
We are bodily invitations, beckoning any new madness on sitting-room display
Slather my honeyed, flayed flesh-prison, with embalmed bits of insectile wonder
Make wishful, utterly impertinent, this pure and petulant child’s appropriated approximation, of mnemonic-betrayed breath, more wicked than any warlock’s wanting
They used to so earnestly command us, the so-serious initiated, to make it new
I pray for an impoverished glow, animated immanence, the interior design of sensible sensuous protestations, of desperation’s untouched razors
Knives thrust toward this dying light, as our defiant, cursed-by-orthodoxy, knuckles to Him
One oblivious god among several dumb, dim loony cameras
Here we protect the embers of our remaining prayers
This zone of impaled, liminal wilderness
Twitter: @AniketSanyal6
Instagram: @arjun__chai
