A DROP OF MY SEA

I live with my antimatter I live with it every day I collide, I rupture, I detonate I never cease to cease a catastrophe  The matter and,  the antimatter Are eating my white and, grey matter I’m yet to find- Which one is “friend" and, which one is “foe" matter I suffer minor explosions every day I heal myself in every way They say it’s not good to be anti-christ- a devil may enter through an unholy hole But fucking satan refuses to buy my soul He just sits in me Busy buying other mortal souls I can’t make a bargain I am too afraid of the darkness It(s)aint- going to touch my matter It(s)aint- going to blow my matter It(s)aint- neither a friend,  nor a foe I still wake up with both colliding  The moment my brain comes to know That it’s awake And still combatting  a battle of reasons, anti or not Leaving me  freakishly  exhausted How am I, then, expected, to face the social nonsense? With the

White, as a floating cloud Soft, as a bloated feather Standing out in a fleeting crowd Are the breasts of a woman of heather Dressed by nipples like olives Covered by nature's caramel coloured guards You'd want to die in them The moment you press your lips on the rim It would be hard to resist  The urge to suck the nectar from their fruit But as you draw your self closer Everything else would seem like a blur Nothing has been designed to contain them But the clasp of your palm They define truly, cream-de- la-cream And don't deserve to remain hidden As you lay your head in the valley of hills Heaven seems like a possible refuge As she throws her bra in a thrill You'd be amazed to see her breasts so nude When she walks They bounce on her every move You'd wish to see them through her shirt And find it hard to clear your mind's dirt She knows they are watching She knows them are young and perky

Image: Ujala Chowdhry This vessel, I must respect Which embodied my pale soul I see your face in the mirror every day And see the respect has been earned, in thy eyes But I still see you shying away from your sight I wonder- What is left of you to do? O,' my vessel, grieve no more You remember you were the white swan You confessed your purity to your soul You were winging in the sky of bright and hope Why can't you still look at your face? Which showed you not to grieve anymore What is left of you to do? O,' my vessel, grieve no more Get in touch with the reality Its gonna go for long, longer than now You have been gifted the gift of time, you may have earned it This gift is hard to find, in the race of time You be what you want to be, forget about the pace You build pace, you build strength You see thy face In the oval mirror, hung on the flawless white walls of pure And, then, ponder- What is left of you to d