For the past seven days
I have been floating in the carcass of this boat
dancing to the tunes of mediocrity.
My daisies are now dead.
Their aching souls have found solace
in the howlings of the shameless winds.
It’s so easy to disappear once you are out of words.
You become a shadow with a taste for silence.
The lack-lustered azure shows no remorse
for this land without a song.
It cannot weep tonight,
for the madness in its belly
while groping the breasts
of colorless clouds
has been ejaculated long ago.
I conjure the ripples
over a lifeless lake.
This is one of the last daisies, I found.
A few more hours into this rummage,
and I shall decapitate my existence
with a thirst for words
still lingering over my voiceless tongue.
Feed’em to the hungry dogs.
Call it Poetic Justice.
© Shashank Bhardwaj