Friday, May 20, 2011

An epigamic experiment

The Drill

As I stomp down the ropes of venality, 
feeling like a droll and challenging the innate agoraphobia 
with the drops of sweat emanating from the glands of my forehead, 
trying to cool off the monster inside, 
I try to cull the broken pieces to balance myself on this tight rope and 
look forward to the destination which seems more kabbalistic with every passing day. 
The inchoate cry of the distant dream beckons a lot 
A lot of attention, but then suddenly, 
with a single burst of the sullen sky, things fall apart.
Things get washed away..
And a new day rises, from the east of the chimerical grin..
From the collusion of the difference..
From the dearth of temerity..
I search for a company, not to share the hapless flame
But just to know..
Because it hurts even more if you know you're the only one hurt..
Strange am I to do things that I know shouldn't be done..
Stranger I am, doing it again..
But will I ever try to look inside and kill the demon?
The demon which stymies the growth of God?
The demon who feeds from my blood and flesh?
Will I ever try to kill you demon?
A demon that has become my very own loved part?

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