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.
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