Laying naked,
In the middle of a cluttered room,
with clads of verses in disarray,
tossed away,
piled up on the dusty floor,
in unshapely mound,
the back of a tired dromedary
cut out
from the dying shadows of the desert,
hunted down by the fiery sunset,
from the myriads of dreams
never getting out from their cocoons,
from the thousands of words
still unspoken, still unborn
In the room with its walls scribbled with my unspeakable fears,
where I’ve been born to be locked up for life
and freed up for death,
my vital space
cluttered with the worn out, broken down furniture
of all I thinks, I dreams, I loves,
I strut naked
exposing my bare flesh of feelings,
the intimate part of my thoughts,
undulating my dull existence
in front of large, wide windows
looking out to the wide city,
built for public scrutiny,
where only indifferent eyes look back, inside me,
seeing nothing,
feeling nothing,
wanting nothing,
too busy to get to the nearby stop,
to catch the jam-packed bus
to the dominion of Insignificance
