The Day could not be Saved.(Poem)

I baptized the hands
with salty holy waters
and rose flavoured sanitiser, to start the work.
as earlier,
I touched shanty plastic flowers
and some wet candy in the back pocket.
God knows how it got there.
yesterday, I have set a new
modus operandi —
not responding to the calls of round pillows
not eating emotions
no to pity partying and
not listening to the loony mind.
to let some new breezes into my being,
to let some new waters into my body,
to let some new fire into my soul,
to let some new ether into my spirit.
nonetheless
I could not anticipate one thing i.e.
dear nancy’s visit to the house —
and changing all the plans
just like that
with her chatty oral dances.

—Drunken Monk.


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