Monday, August 27, 2012

Lines of Loss

When all that you care for is the next step
But all you can feel is the fan above
Revolving in contempt of all that you can’t
As if scouting for the angle that makes you seem
Worse than a penniless father in a brothel
The tragedy seems more profound than ever
Like being stranded in the middle
Of the Brahmaputra
And the hand you’re seeking
Is in somebody else’s;
Crimson in the watery final sunset.

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