Guinea Pig

Handpicked out of numerous specimens, experimented, being synchronised in every octave, molten self being poured into umpteen moulds, each as juvenile as melancholy, surreptitiously scripting the most jocular twists, my life, my relevance, is of a guinea pig, and they my Gods are satanic!!

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Broken


a wry smile,

semi-penetrates,

into the walls,

strikes the mirror,

echoes,

calls.



he stands,

walks to it,

then stares,

it glistens,

smiles,

finally dares.




to laugh,

satirically,

and show,

his reality,

his self,

his woe.





he shivers,

stumbles,

drops,

in fragments,

on ground,

it crops.





reflections,

a million,

fears,

faces,

all around,

in tears.


he sits,

counting 'em,

all day,

starting from zinch,

losing count,

in dismay.


then,

with,

the dawn,

realizes,
the day,

all gone.


lost,

he wipes,

his tears,

when laughs,

sadistic laughters,

he hears.


countless titters,

full of life,

or short of it,

down there,

lay hopelessly,

broken.