reluctant to step into change,
though inevitable as the familiar tick tock,
of the famished lizard crawling on my wall.
Beneath my humanitarian back,
two cockroaches make merry,
playing jump to death,
on my crisp absurdly clean bedsheets.
In the corner,
The four mosquitoes throw a toast-
"The summer's here at last!,
and we'll have our full"
And I waver in non chalance,
of blood draining,
only from the limbs this time around.
Dodging mysteries and revelations,
Drowned in cliches,
My atmosphere refuses to breathe today,
muting even the deafening loco horn,
to a whimper of this whimsical night.
Nothing does matter anymore.
-Palash
March'13, Lumding.
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