Tired

DEMOCRACY,

NOT DICTATORSHIP.

like all good things do

a good thing staying unchanged for too long

Is pathetic; maggots prey on such

our maggot is abysmal and our sourdough too

my patience in circular top cuts

to burn it just a little as toaster often do

jam and butter each wrestling not to overkill

cut it from one side of hope to another

leave it out for just enough sun

as the butter is lost in the smell of summer

what happens to such good things

unperturbed by probability

Do these things kill the equilibrium

or gets killed for such insanity?

whilst the air mimics condolence

the bread mourns for the lack of moisture

surely never before cutting its losses

Don't look up.

I don't think I can breathe.

Every graze of fingers feel like a cat's sneeze

Even the hand now could perfectly fit the shoe

Just when the prettiest sunsets barely missed the moon

I would kiss your arms in monsoon,

I would kiss your knuckles too,

even when they'd smell of longing

At times maybe some of my dried blood too.

Demand my attention

Demand my entire soul too

Demand every single nerve I strike,