Thursday, 26 April 2012


Why is it that the heavy heart
Never slows down, despite my willing it?
Why does that indefinable, infinitesimal
Infernal lump in my throat still allow me to breathe?
Why, even when I drown in self inflicted silence,
Do words impinge, float, escape, and express themselves?
Even as my heart, my soul curl themselves back
Into the fetal form, closing themselves
Turning inward, why do I still go on
And move, and find myself open

Why cannot I let that period define
And close a labouring life?
Curl my whole self, tightly
Airlessly, compacting myself
Implode, to that zing.

Pulling the plug, within.

26 April, 2012


  1. An explosion releases a great deal of energy
    by contrast an implosion uses up a lot of energy
    which ultimately leads to lethargy
    and just to think about imploding makes you foggy.
    A study of pressure and time is called geology
    and to this life has a great analogy
    given time and enough pressure life turns into an orgy.

  2. After so long I visit, only to find that you still move me.


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