If there was any newspaper for poets
then you would definitely find my name in obituary section,
everyday… every god-damned day.
Words would go like…’ young poet found laying on warm sands; choked in his own shit.’
Or like…’ the poet from India died writing a love poem…his words were never exceptional but most importantly he died a virgin( only that won’t be true.)’
Or…’ though it was an early demise but a notebook has been found containing the last literary work of the man.’
If this happens someday…it would be a better world. Most romantic death of a butcher should be a butchery by his own knife.