Sitting under the sunlight
I can see through my edges.
Pale skin have been scared by white blotches of winter.
As the heat penetrates through my ear drums
I feel warmth. Warmth of a peculiar longing.
I see my reflection in last night's dews accumulated on the railings.
And I do not recognise myself.
A person about to die can understand that his end is very near.
I do not know why I feel the same.
A continuous drumming interferes my eerie of silence.
The distant train whistles to recall me back to reality.
I sit quietly.
A fever of madness is running through my viens.
Yet I am so undisturbed. So untroubled.
Am I petrified or
This is just the alarm of the dead?
I breathe hot air out of my chubby cheeked mouth
Intervention of complex oxymorons.
Contemplations of the gones and the going bys
I sit at the edge benumbed.
The plants that my father grows so endearingly,
I can see them grow rough,
The yellow fellow petals is seeking attention
They need water to survive on
Yet I sit. Just sit in tranquil. Staring at the edge.
All the dust particulates have encircled my body
The ones, one should keep away from.
Into the bargain, I inhale the heat
Notwithstanding the conversations of the banned.
Have I grown so apathetic that I feel none?
Are my sour cries of help just in my head?
I touch my lips.
Cannot figure out if the fingers have grown rough or just that the lips have grown too insensitive.
I keep on touching.
So much to explore myself.
So little interested humans.
An odd tune starts playing in my neighbourhood.
I understand that it is the pain of reality.
I have felt too much for too long.
An imperturbable attempt is just an unnecessary requisite now.
I have walked too long all along in desperation.
It is now my plate to bear.
Thus inhaling a deep breath under succumbed sunlight,
I get up on my feet.
I feel my knees ache, yet I do not know why.
Insanely drugged I walk downstairs.
Into the oblivion.
Into the desperation.
Into the verisimilitude.