28 Jun

It is when I hear a lot of voices within,
When the multitude of contradictions inside start shouting,
Each for itself, without pause,
That I feel an urge to explode.
To have my body ripped apart like a suicide bomber’s.
Then, each fragment of my flesh
Would crawl on themselves
Seeking the skin and flesh
Of the different people I have desired.
Each drop of blood would flow away and vanish,
Seeking the arteries of my myriad relations.
Only the heart would remain,
Confused as to what love to look for
And what comfort to seek.
It is when I find my mind burning with desire,
(Whether love or lust, I still do not know)
That I feel the need of jumping into a raging fire.
Nothing would remain of me, i think.
For I suspect, I am made out desire,
Raw and passionate.
Each such feeling ends in the thought of death.
I do not fear dying.
To me, death is like heaving a sigh of relief.
It is this life that I fear.
This life, which keeps going on
As if it would never end.
It is this life,
Which bites me like a snake at every turn,
Which infests me with the slowest of all poisons,
And which corrodes my spirit bit by bit,
That I fear the most.


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