BY SHRIPARNA BISWAS
Sitting beside the witness of my sorrows
A sudden thunder grows from my chest
It's mark indents itself on my bosom
A growing hollow of black
A piercing force.
Travelling from it's origin it meets my vocal chords
forming a pretty ribbon, imitating the one in the gallows
my alexithymia ascertains the uncertainness of my trajectory
the glass of water sitting by itself triggers me, my nerves protruding from the sides of my forehead.
I shove spoonfuls into my mouth, I use both hands
I halt when i reach five, I must ignore the rumblings in my stomach
Maybe creating a new problem will aid in forgetting the old ones
Laying back on my mattress, the agony travels to my head
Tinnitus fills my ears, I know not why.
The sounds coming from my stomach fail to suppress the melancholia pestering me.
The urge to let go washes over me
As i hold onto the one's who have witnessed my tears.