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Dec 6, 2011


These eyes are seeing white.
Where once a smile would evoke
The visions of red colours, dancing brilliantly,
They now appear flat. Dull.
The world that was once artistically painted
With an impressionist’s scattering of
Cerulean blues and blinding, buttery yellows
and grassy greens and vivid, rose-like pinks
their edges blurred and merging, a beautiful sight---
Everything is now grey.
As if I am colour blind.

This beating entity inside my chest
Feels detached and pointless---
Just a composition of cells and vessels
A rhythmic reminder.
Someone must have sneaked to my bed at night
Artfully slit my chest open,
Delicately extracted this heart
And boiled it in scalding water.
Nerves no more tingling with sensation,
Skin no more sensing the feathery touch of friendship,
Eyes no more seeing the colours of life.

I feel sterile,
So clean. An enchantment on my own.
Everything is numb, it’s morphine, it’s white---
There are only greys. There is no emotion.
A zombie walks through these shadowed streets at night,
Wearing my clothes,
My hair upon its head,
My voice (lifeless) emanating from its larynx,
My shoes on its feet,
My possessions in its cupboard.
Such pristine serenity
In a whirlpool of numb nothingness;

I am just a body;
A withered corpse sucked dry of blood,
An earthen pot smashed on the floor,
A soulless creature,
A sponge squeezed dry of water,
A lifeless, limp flag of independence.

Life is where love is, where freedom is,
Where trust is.
Where home is.

But I have no home.


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