God was sitting on an armchair like an old man who had been to sea. He sat up straight. Like he remembered something. The summer day was ending in a calm scorch. He didn’t know when he cried the last, the last he felt anything. He was incapable of keeping track of time. He craved…
god only meddles in melancholy
Euphoria used to be so cheap,it lost all its value.Until we sow all our amour and it didn’t grow.It didn’t last.And we forgot when was the last time we were happy.The last time we looked adorable.The last time we looked munchy.The last time we looked like god’s creation. But that’ll come latereven though it had…
I forgot myself
In the need to be depicted in the story not as me,I forgot myself.Hiding from heavens,I forgot myself.When they interchanged fear with faith,I forgot myself.My prayers were conversational I said.But conversation wasn’t a primary need they replied. I wasn’t lucid enough to explain properly that for meit was. I should grow, looking at my shadow…
There’s no way you’ll outrun a bear
Smoother violence fills our heartslike charming splinters. The irony is I am the first of my womento have the luxury to heal. I could’ve put that to good use.I could’ve made the bison my pet.I could’ve planted trees right beside my shadow and seen them grow.I could’ve loved you without fear. We miss the storms…
Bite me!
I am writing words in the wrong order,they hide what I want to say in hideous ways. Everything fazes me now,it was supposed to be just the dearest of things. And I can’t really make you understand what’s wrong,I say words all in the wrong order. I’ve said things before,things like I can’t become the…
渴望
Bring your own boozeto my tautological nightmare partywhere sanctimonious rebels are hunted downand made to declare“We knew our manifestos meant nothing!” Where my unhinged love towards winteris untamed at full speed and it’s alwaysDecember in the living room.The bedroom is another story though. Where I use language to codify my sadness.Where the tender ducks peddle…
Good job being yourself!
God is grieving.Now that the full moon feels like a witch’s dead eye.And I see imagination slowly ruining my lifelike it ruined God’s. I bet you never thought of it like that. It was imagination that led to the path where God had to receive a courtesy call from belowand in a thick German accent…
Mother
The dragon that laid eggs last night didn’t show up today.And there’s no under the bed in my room,so like any sane person,I’ve lodged the egg in between Morrison and Dickinsonon my bookshelf. Those two I find motherly of all. They stand on either spectrum of motherhoodand I find that curious and to be true….
Grown-up
Physics and feminism were plaguing the school courtyards. My parents could only officially bar me from one.And unofficially the universe was paying me off in grave detailsthe project of being a human in disguise. It took me a lot of time to become a person.There were too many carnages going off in all directions.It took…
I Was Thinking About Boys
While I had these men in my books who were living life to the fullest,my mother had her religion. They were hungry, voracious people, chasing the ‘it’ always.While I idealised them, wanted to be them and with them,my mother placed the prayer mat and bowed.While I was consumed by them,my mother thought of the saints.My…
Sumaya Mashrufa 