it was like a pig in trash
wearing ashes of a cigarette
with the smell of urine;
insects eating the ash because there’s no skin.
it was starvation till bones and until,
eating bowls were under the eyes.
there were no words or stars,
it was only sunlight burning
whatever remained.
the stomach was melting and skulls were almost cracked,
near an explosion of outbursts of emotions.
guilt was damaging the throat,
its weight was peeling off air (and life) from soul
residing in madness.
pain at the tail which didn’t even exist,
still silence was suffering,
like the strings of the guitar played
in the sound of a Dholak.
no matter how many wishes (of reality) there were,
illusion stroke harder this time.
it fucked faster a (w)hole which could not
excrete.
-Shantam Sahai.
