Tag Archives: Life
A Wolf’s Dream
Flowers on Fire
The subways are empty
at the dead of the night.
Their exits recoil themselves
in the ashes of the ashes.
I whiff a pure smoke of a forgotten memory
and let it breed within my substructured brain.
A graveyard of cigarettes greets my shoes.
The lights go hazy as the winds turn warmer.
Another dull night has been devoured today,
with the help of a fifth of liquid courage.
Darkness needs darkness.
Its an immortal curse,
an undying thirst.
It travels with an agonizing silence
from the corpse of an empty bottle
to my eyes, staring an abyss
I wanted to curse everyone
with my eyes, while slitting their throats
by my tongue.
But I reach home dejected
whirling myself into an abyss
of nothingness.
I try the usual grind,
to type something beautiful,
but the words have escaped my prison ago.
I need a new remorse, to vomit a new grief.
So I set the whole garden on fire
and wait.
Generosity for Ounces of Madness
The morning lights do not dissolve for me.
I don’t know how you all do it.
It becomes a rain of a million unapologetic needles
ruffling my hair, the scalp and the bored skull.
Damned, be they, Damned be the generosity for its alluring brightness.
Since the time, these eyes have forgotten to shut down early.
The madness has been accumulating
ounce by ounce.
Like a cat ready to pounce with its warm toes
on the dead freezing body
to taste the cold, with its tongue
in successive unforgiving licks.
The madness pounces in the morning.
I have become used to these never-ending work shifts,
by driving a dying car to a dying place,
in a dying body.
I have become used
to the half-baked bacon burgers,
to the caffeinated miseries.
There is no end to it.
There will never be.
Just a beginning exists.
Just a light that wrecks the day.
After every night.
And I got used to it.
Eventually,
I became generous
for the little ounces of madness
to survive.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
Writings to Heaven 