I faint at the glimpse of the first heartbeat of a known nightmare of an unknown tomorrow,
I look up to the heavens,
Wondering if God will come down this moment,
Embrace me and Erase my decaying past.
The past that has corroded my innards,
With an immediate recovery for the pricked,
I vaguely whisper the chants of a mourner’s suicidal rush,
Hs wish.
I tremble with the blasphemic sweat and the unnerving chill
Of a child with Malaria.
I wonder if I have the guts to die.
I wonder if I can stop all that I want to stop
All that I want to hail.
I wink at the worldly judgement of praise,
For me.
I grunt at their superficial love,
Directed towards the unreal self.
By now.
Thanks to you, my fellow humans.
For now
I know not.
Who Iam or who you are.

He told me that he was afraid.
He told me that he had loved just one girl in his life.
And that she had crossed Seven seas and eight worlds by this lonely moment
That we were caught up in the swirls of the green grassy smoke of Mary and Jane.
He told me that I was too pretty for his eyes, mind and soul.
I told him,
It’s a heat and that I was not there to **** him.
I told him that we were just caught in the jingle of the purest heat,
I told him to relax and sleep.
And that I will not touch him.
I told him that I’m a sweet ******.
I told him to stop staring at me with those sweet puppy eyes,
So that I can control my arousal, nausea and heat.
I snuggled close to him on a single bed,
Lulling him and sending strong telepathic heat.
After a while, he turned.
He asked how wrong it would be if he would go soft in between the sacred art of love,
I told him that is the passion and that is the heat.
And that it is to be simply genuine to your rushes wherein *** comes.
I told him *** is not an exam.
I told him that *** is a rush.
I told him that *** is the Heat.
I told him to be simply genuine.
I told him *** is to love.
I asked him if he loved me.
He said, ‘Ami tomako Bhishon Bhalo bhashi’,
Which is Bengali for, ‘I love you very much’.
I creased my brows
And scorned at him saying that he’d just met me,
He said,
That was enough,
And that I was his own soul,
In flesh and Blood.
We made sweet sweet love,
That night.
All night,
On the cold floor of his shabby apartment,
On that sweaty night,
When power was never there.
I went to my flat in the morning,
I bid him goodbye by the evening train,
I never asked his name.
It was as if I had to know it later,
Not now.
Not today.
Not this week, month or year.
Just another age.
He never asked my name.
He must’ve felt the same.
For telepathy, never cheats.
Today, I wonder. I trip.
And I imagine him as all that I want,
For all that I know is his sweet puppy eyes,
And the ablaze heat that taught me that somewhere,
There lies a momentary passion bigger than me,
Inside me.
Waiting to burn, Roast and Shrink
My ego, my identity and myself!

In the best high, there are two things,

either to be.

First if,

“Pansexuality”.

Or,

“Narcissm”.

As in,

you attain one of these two.

The strictest codes would decipher this for you.

Yes, I completely am sane to use,

'the best high'.

You look at me.
I look at you.
The heat rises.
Arousal is overpowering.
The nausea begins.
You ask, ‘Shall we?’
And, I blush, wondering if eternity will come together at least this time;
Going against my celibacy of a year,
Bowing to the blushing nausea of the routine arousal of a forgotten yesterday,
Awkwardly I crawl on the bed, sliding closer to you.
I sit on your lap.
I feel your ******* in between my thighs.
I rhythmically move with closed eyes.
Blushing, I open my eyes to look at your long black curls.
I cup your long brown beard in my moist palms
My eyes meet yours and they stutter, scatter and flutter.
Blushing, with halp open eyes and wide open *****,
I ****** my jumpsuit harder on your hard-on.
Your hands wary over my ***** and I clench my fist slowly over your manhood.
Suddenly, I become faster than you.
I kiss you madly, rub your beard over my tender cheeks and almost bruised lips.
You pause.
I don’t see you no more.
I heat up.
I remember kissing your manhood, loving it, eating it and  nibbling it for what seemed to be forever,
Until I choked.
Paused.
The clothes are gone.
And you pulled me by my hair.
Bent my waist before I could grasp a glance  of your rugged beard,
Of your sour kiss,
And, then it was just thrusts. And thrusts. And Thrusts.
And a million more thrusts.
After an eternity of an endless void,
It pulsated inside.
I felt a mild tingle.
Nothing much.
Nothing heavy.
Nothing shivering, to me.
To you as well.
It seemed strange.
And then you were out.
And then you were gone.
I dripped.
I dried.
I spilled.
And, I oathed that I will be celibate for the rest of my life,
Again.
Because you grow upper, and upper,
You forgot to make love.
You forgot to kiss me.
You forgot to look into my eyes.
You forgot to caress my hips.
You forgot to clench your nails into my neck
Because the ground does not move anymore.
To let me see the passion in your eyes when you're inside me,
Because there is no more passion left of this copulation.
This coitus is a blank frustration and none more.
It is just a routine now.
It will just be a routine again.
I swallow the pink-butterfly pill.
And I know, that this nausea
This arousal
Will enslave me the next time as well.
And next time too,
It will never be the same as I moan in my solitary void,
Feeling the tingle in my crotch,
Awaiting a warmth,
Tingles, and all the other fantasies.
I will just stand, stare, hope and die without the holy tingle,
And you will too.
We are just jaded, and Jade till it all dims to an oblivion of a momentary jade.

When you
Twisted, Roasted and Burnt
the sourness of that  breath of my life,
Did you wonder if my eyes were quoting you
Or the dirge of a distant land,
Did you not pause to breathe that breath,
Lest I might inhale your sweaty stale
Sweet Breath!
Were you wearing the gloves of a shrunken leather,
That you made off my hairy skin
And its sweaty *****.
Did you glare deep into my eyes and toes,
Wondering if I was the untouchable
You had
enslaved for granted for a dozen years,
till my sour soul would breathe the last of your charred breath.
You had hammered me to fit into the holes of your *** with none a friction,
So that you could keep yourself warm, wet and nourished always inside me.
Weren't you glad when you rubbed my back,
When I purged with a distinct death moaning under your nose
Did you slap me because I disturbed your sleep purging endless every other minute?
Or just that I stank the staleness of your *** growing inside me?

I could do nothing my Staleheart Lover
But **** that blob of rotten animal *** of yours,
And die myself after this verse,
Cause
I simply could not love that red big *** that ran my blood and my flesh,
I just couldn't breathe no more, lest it breathed a fragrant life into me
And I forget the hatred I nourished with my soul,
So, I shut me as well as the heavy blob called my child!
So that I just couldn't let anyone conclude the it,
This blob,
The baby,
as one pretty mistake of us.

Humanity Plus or Transhumanism,

This is the It.

An elixir,

to the Crooked, twisted and shrunk a world Right now.

The only Elixir to any sense, sensitivity or Sensibility of an unknown Sanity.

I have worn a ring
Ever since I remember the first.

I woke upto a lit’le golden shine
On my li’lest finger.

I grew into a walkable,
And it got tighter.

Then they removed it
and gave me a diamond studded one on my 8th birthday.

I wore it on my index.

I grew into my teens
And it got tighter.

Then I got outta teens.
And it got tighter all the same.

Then a brown haired chap took pity on me
And proposed me.

With a ring.

A silver one.

I wore it on my ring finger.
Then it saw me for a long time.

And it got tighter.

And I separated direction from
The brown haired chap.

So, I dropped the ring

And whoosh it flew into the tracks
with the faintest bounce.

Then, I was a woman.

The ringless finger ached my periphery.
I thought of my diamond ring .
And I sold it next morning at the Jewellers.

I got a Platinum ring, after a lotta confused psychology to take the decision.
I felt a pauper signboard afar.

I wore it on my *******.

And, I smoked a cigarette
And I drank ***.
With the platinum shining on my *******.

Then I took pity on a black eyed fellow
And slept with him in a drunken state.

Morning I woke up with my bright sneer  dimming down.

My ring was gone.

The black eyed chap stole it.

My platinum ring.

I never wore a ring
Ever again.

I smoke the cigarette
And I drink the ***
With none a ring.

I will, Will to be buried without
Any of the Same.