Legacy

It’s the sole legacy from his dad. A cup of ice cream tempts him more than the alluring face of a fair lady. Eating is his ecstasy forgetting the existence. It blooms in orange or red hue in a test tube in the summer of tension. Urinary impulse usually slices his sleep into three at night. Nameless anxieties burn in his mind. Fatigue remains in the ash. Sugar syrup flows through his veins and rusts his internal engines. His doctor’s stethoscope listens money-beats. Pharmacy sells him new complications. Insulin leads him to the blind alley. He sloshes in the sludge of life, reaching nowhere. Sanoj’s a writer - his rating is high in a glucose meter. Sooner or later he will be awarded with the silence of a coma.