Poetry

Why were you collecting the 
people all around? 
Unsure of yourself on the 
ambiguity of an inquest? 
 
I remained unhappy my 
whole life and left the 
bed after chemical-castration, 
in hurry. 
 
In hindsight inside the 
nightmare room, what was 
left to imagination? The 
half-eated apple? 
 
Hold my hand. I am coming 
with you, to settle 
my account with god, for 
creating people of this type. 
 
 
• 
 
The purple spillage 24 June 2012 
was ready to play with- 
fire, for estranged lover, 
 
inventing a fake enemy. 
What if I die again and 
again for you. 
 
It begs the identity of a 
black moon, perhaps to reflect 
the stuttering homophobia. 
 
Crossing the time zones, searching 
the old snow, in the cracks of 
volcanic rocks, you kiss a clove bud. 
 
In anger, I receive your ashes, 
when it was raining blue. 
A baby died in a crib, unattended. 
 
 
*Code breaking genius, founder of computer science, who allegedly committed suicide on 7th June 1954.