By Prateek Joshi
Listen!
My arms
are tense,
legs weak. I am
a mirage
on a stranger's watch,
an event horizon
crucified in the dark,
a quicksand of time,
struck on an asteroid
How would you conceive of love?
A walk
between birth and death
is a spiral
in this rogue storm
gnawing away
at the existence
of a wobbling planet
drifting away, slowly
into space
Imagine! Two breaths
into a rally
in and out,
a long way from home
nowhere to go
"You have ceased to be."
An emptiness repeats
"What if i forget
who i am.
Will i ever be myself
again...?"