Saturday, 6 August 2016


Image by Irving Penn

Hello, I said hello.
Through the microphone, i hear a voice resonate back,
A loudness,
A crunch between my toes like the bones of sparrows.
The cold numbness push on slips away as it's inside.
The heresy I believed in never could break down the back talk.
As you came like a piece of brack through, they call me a plague.
Why still it isn't hang up?
She on the other side with shotgun shells in her cheeks interviews my innocents.
i barely could follow the pulse.
the neighbour shouts, except the only abutting once.
the jumbling mess, no more i could stand up with the attitude.
saying goodbye, i disconnected.


i burned the town and the neighbour.
the silence just before i lit them up with gasoline,
was terrifying and fearsome.
and the darkness and the ash flooded sky that came after,
was as peaceful as lying nude on the pristine beaches of Navagio.

i could feel that gush inside me,
free from the strifes and preachy clamourous disturbed people.


hello, once again,
through the microphone, i hear a mushy voice...


"A Sick Boy's Figment memory"

© 2018 Sreejith Jayachandran 13:12pm January 20th, 2017 these stereotypes, am already sad of my consideration- disqualification- y...