I take the streets one flight at a time. The traffic a cannon thrown out at sea. The flotsam of cigarette butts.The lights an electric riff uncorked in the thyroid gaze of smogged mall windowpanes. And fingers of dust grating through thermocol second pops. Dust flies into nostalgia caked eyes.

When water touches the eyes they close.

I cannot stitch this tear in the universe. It bothers me. An itch. a whispering nightmare. Of seconds spliced through plasticcubicles. fervent bloodshot eyes holding back the folds. Eyes filled with the fear of tomorrow.  And yesterday. Welded with the promise of silence. and sleep.

But never together


About teevramadhyam

'I became insane with long intervals of horrible sanity' -Poe
This entry was posted in Atyachar, Bombay, City, Could be verse, epiphany, I want to ride my bicycle, night, vignettes, why? and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s