All the alleys are quite known to me but I ask what is perplexing to understand one? I’ve spoken to the vultures inside a turquoise blue hall. It smelled desolate. My skin realized the death of lies coming from naive prisoners. Even the normal hue of my chai (Tea) turned anomalous. My blood tasted suspicious as if I took a sip. One more new evening and I tied my relentless body with a cold-blooded mahogany rope.
An illusory phase of the mind knows transitions, empty thoughts, pageless books, handless clocks, etc. That seems incredibly incomplete but this is how you can paint solitude and express yourself plainly. Only a few want to feel you and not exactly understand you. So, you now know sympathy and empathy aren’t the same. But, you are both in one soul.
I fear to feel my bones without a body. With a penchant for deceased flowers, I’ll yet be sympathetic if you kiss me with tulips from… This place that doesn’t love flaws is too much to assimilate. I too no more speak about poetry, novels and describe the beauty of cover pages. I feel a capella inside my heart. I’ll live in exile. You’ll not get it. You will solely ponder…
Who would desire to recognize my quantum leaps?
My heart is perhaps not a sanctuary for humans. Wayless it stands. Now, a ubiquitous letter wishes to wither in a concealed heaven.
Lala from a solitary sea…
~ B. Farhaj Jebin