Thursday 15 August 2019

Poetry 2019 Longlist, ManiMahesh Garg

I can’t

I can’t sleep.
I can’t.

The pillows are hard and rusty
With recurring deaths of my past,
The sheets are wet and oozing
With blood of my crimes,
The air around is filled and choked
With smoke of my thoughts,
The walls are cold and damp
With surreal paintings of my dreams,
My room is lit, unusually bright and itchy
With the conscious light of my ever-growing guilt…

I can’t sleep today.
I can’t.
I won’t.
And I think
I don’t want to,

Let all of them
Eat me
As I stare at them…

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