they left me with my ghosts
in a room without a ceiling
and then piled-up words … after words
till they lost all their meaning
the flooring gives away
the ink seeps-in through my veins
and now i’m suspended (in-between)
my nightmares and your dreams
“you can’t really see the stars here”
though you hope, you hope, you hope
-adee, @delhidreams
during the last days of december in the year 2014
note: the line in quotes is taken from the latest book i read, Station Eleven- “a spellbinding story of a Hollywood star, his would-be savior, and a nomadic group of actors roaming the scattered outposts of the Great Lakes region, risking everything for art and humanity” all set in a post-apocalyptic world. the novel and the year together gave birth to the poem above.
Born in New Delhi, India in 1980 and is a retired pessimist (still) living in New Delhi. He has Haryanvi ancestors, a Punjabi girlfriend, friends all over the world, two (or more) yet to be born children, (many) memories of (many) pet dogs and no cats ever. He holds an honours degree in English Literature from the University of Delhi and creates advertisements for paying the bills. His interests are universal, and include: living, eating, sleeping and when not sleeping, daydreaming. Other abiding interests include reading, writing, street photography, newspaper editorials, watching the moon and planning trekking trips that never materialize.
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