the dawning    [derivations of a dreamt in realm in deep cut vicissitudes]

 

in the grips of his evasive mind
switch terrains
from the bustling concreted densities
towards an unventured vastness- a
no man's land of the risky marshes



why am i in his holds?
free yet bound ..by what?


who is he..what am i?


i think i remember him
lingering as faint shadows
merging in a bitter thickness

yes.              he is the fugitive in double masks
my intimate villain of midnight strangulations
of whom
is a destiny of a birthed in Kali
in reddening rage and retaliations
stamping merciless- his
abandonment,  and the kill


how and why is he here again?


perplexes more, my continuing presence
in all his frames- veering and stumbling
in a maddening muddy Scorpio
over the bogging hungry spaces

kidnapped? or perhaps
worser, an accomplice
to his piled-up swollen sacks
ringing metallic and printed
bundles in a jostling hustle

whatever.        the spiraling in clarity
seems impossible
out of my warring thought meteors
in an inner mushrooming chaos
and of the palpable fear in spurts
from his darkly shrinking face


he stops in a roadside
ruin, that's still a motel

he does care about me?!

am in there already, taking a quick shower
puzzled of what's the course ahead?

passing through his cabin,  i see him . closer
the unmasking-
-
[an almost sunken face
floats with countless cratered to swollen pools
of disgusting paleness & puffiness;
left eye's a black hole's abyss
weirdly shining strands of offwhitish hairs
passively streams downwards as if in
disciplined school-boyish manner (of the same kind
that had impressed me at first sight
of our dreaded infatuation chapters)
now badly trying to seal off
the biggening baldness patches
growing akin to his sickening greys]


he is terribly real..
or is he really terrible?


shockingly, i gear up with him.   yet again
travelling towards nowhere..


only to be sooner pushed away
on some sudden greener shores..by no one but him

i like to think i know what i hardly
expected...that
even his long petrified core
oozes a drop or two ..wet warmth
of running down riverine tears
of repentance, or at the least
the bare minimal humanness


grappling yet surrendering
to the newfound solitude, what
i see now far-off (or is it just below?)
are his treacherously mining serpentine routes
taking a clear departure from shared brittle orbitals


infinite shards of the broken glassiness
in tinted hues, and still laden
in an unease of sticky haziness
disappears


just

a vacuity
filling visions within
of Him.    His aura