Of Deadlines And Anxiety

They say I smell of rotten promises

Of unhindered ignorance

And of shattering relationships;

But there I weep

On the edge of commitments

Half to my right: of emails and assignments

Half to my left: of friendships and conversations.

How I stink of butter, and curry, and stale coffee residues

My body craving water wilts down to droughts

My eyes, a swollen threat

My feet, a sign of labor

My fingers wrinkled to exhaustion

My mind, a flattening sleep;

Tell me where they sell time

Maybe an hour or two

For the sake of repair

Of wounded hearts and loaded minds.

I know the sun shall rise,

But who doesn’t love the nights?

To blissful vistas

Unattended flaws

Crawling content

And dreamy skins,

Don’t they shower a couple of verses

On blank smiles and disrupted hopes?

Why does one whine

The crumbling of the moon

When their eyes were shut

When the moon shone crisp?

Why shall I be asked then

Of untethered meets

And unconsumed letters;

Why shall I wait

For scandals and tidings

Is it not ample to see

I’m slowly pouring myself

Into placid palettes of closure?