My Gallery
My Gallery
In upper part of my body
A cognitive bell rings
From a dial-up connection
of live wires
The modem is working just
To repeatedly provide
the facsimile of
Barren and bald paths
Inner lumbering of daily freight
Coiling, clutching upward
There is no vivacity
The vital force has parasited
How I inhale life?
My days and nights are bolted
Inside a brain cell,
My voice has held back
It lays a plan to brawl my soul
Residing in my own skull
Dictates notes imitating my tone
I couldn’t disintegrate my recall
As my shadow has left me
There remains Just I, me and myself,
Why is my brain a black hole?
Could it not be a universe?
Of a constellation of migraine, tablets
Syringe, backache and insomnia
Dream has become a dead pattern
As worn out as fossil led glow
Everything has become identical
Except the weight of consequence
That has variations of endurance
As I go through perdition
My imbalance will be rectified
Hang my art on the wall
As after allotted time
My gallery will end
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