Saturday, April 2, 2011

How does death begin?
Holding hands to the end of eternity, till the next eternity arrives on your doorstep. That's how.
The fingers, once mine, are brown with yesteryears' stains. Whirling years go past the hubbub of distant cascades.
Silence erupts inside my head. It runs through my vanity.
I dig trenches inside my words and stare vacantly at the whiteness of new sheets. The edge of the blue starts bleeding, as slowly the rover vessel of darkness takes the rising tide.
Nights pile up on her lips. I try hard to fathom the darkness within them.
I dream with my eyes open, and see the serpent nibbling at the seam of an old cricket ball.

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