The Rift

The rift between yesterday and tomorrow
Is filled with obnoxious fumes
You crouch there waiting for answers
Like a parched field of nothingness.

A nightmare woven
By a blind dramatist
Cloudless gloomy skies
With new moon (invisible)

The rift between today and tomorrow
Is no man's land
Mirrors shatters visions there
Regurgitating yourself on you.

Death-pale lizards
Hungry for light-starved moths
A dozen sex-craved dogs
Wail and wrestle

The rift between today and yesterday
Is a guillotine blade
Between your head and yourself
Grappling with beheader's past.

I see moon faces smiling
The backdrop of my heart
Painted with your portraits
Death throngs in the air

The rift between "is" and "has to be"
Is of footprints left by corpses
Death the enchanting seducer
Funeral flowers adorn him.

Who waters the mushrooms
Springing up like blisters
I saw smiles at funerals
Beneath glazed eyeballs

The rift between "I" and "Others"
Is a beggar's broken bowl
Hope food fills the emptiness
Passers-by hiding their own.

Shadows are made of light
They live and live like desperation
Papers tear People die
Dried petals turn to life dust

The rift between "Am" and "Should be"
Is a spider's spindly web
Woven in love and optimism
It enchants the aspiring "I".

Scuttle behind yesterdays
Tomorrows expect you to rise
Run with crippled feet
Amputated below the knees

The rift between life and death
Is a wait of restless nomads
Of rats huddled in a gas chamber
Every exit leading to nowhere.

Yesterday's wings are too far
For you to catch and pin down
Rivers flow Flowers wilt
Memories become mind dust…

5 thoughts on “The Rift

  1. oh, and the rift,
    the same rift, you must agree, can
    be appalingly sweet,
    spreading its wings over
    both the bygone day and an unfathomable day,
    like a mercuric transition,
    an inevitable
    and necessarily incompletely-visble bridge,
    telling you not one of its innumerable secrets,
    informing you not, about the spins and hurls,
    enervating you by the minute,
    you, who is now thirsty for knowledge,
    to, someday, make you sit back,
    laugh and smile.

  2. There are one too many anonymouses here!

    That sounds close to my theory on ignorance being bliss. Nice comment, thank you!

    By the way, in what sense have you used the word “enervating”?

  3. although i can fathom i what sense you’ve used the phrase “… one too many…”, the word enervate was meant to remind you of how tired we could get counting and speculating.

    besides, i do not believe that ignorance is bliss. i only intended to say that there’s more in store for you. is that a give away (as for who i am)?

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