Please do Die


My only wish

is to hear,

he is dead.


Dead, Like a log of wood

in the rain. The decaying slip.


This won’t do justice enough

to the many closures , many truths,

and the many many-ies draped over me.

Or may be not.

Yet, for the fakeness that is,

And the self-centered coldness

The best denial should come from life

Like a still born womb or

An unburied body.



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