I can’t tell that I breathe for you.
I breathe for lots of things…
Mostly death.
Rather I get my salvation being inside your arms,
I get my musings by seeing your naked breasts,
bare nipples…
longing nipples.
Hunger makes everything delusional,
insomnia is the best high you can get…
I didn’t know that,
I know now.
That’s the thing with broken people…you always get abundant philosophy from them…
But darling, I have been between places and still you never made me feel homeless.
The lost kid that we saw on that rich neighborhood…
looking for a chance… looking for a meal… looking for a poem to hunt…
I had to drink a lot that day…but seeing you over this manipulative world made everything beautiful again…
Scrutinized mind…my rotten mind…
I get my blues by always keeping you in my mind.
Sometimes I don’t even like the music… sometimes all I want is a silence…
the silence that you gave to me as a fearless bird…
my broken Phoenix…
my wind on steel rail…
my cries for apocalypse…

…………………………………………………………….

Photograph: Souvik Banarjee.

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