A grinder working at night workshop
Crushing, deforming, pulverizing
My soporific self sans consciousness
In the midst of predestined paradoxes
Your existence is like a flowered hoax
Substance-less, eaten up by post -truth gibberish
Hey, you, turn your face- what ye find are cursed
Converted zombies remember the past.
Each night they eat my liver dissecting
But each day is mine; see your tears on drain
They teach you bliss as curse and curse as bliss
Break your chain ; look at the history in niche.
Madhobilota whispers in my ear
To tell ye fight the curse,as me sans fear.
Partha Pratim Acharya
25/2/2018
Crushing, deforming, pulverizing
My soporific self sans consciousness
In the midst of predestined paradoxes
Your existence is like a flowered hoax
Substance-less, eaten up by post -truth gibberish
Converted zombies remember the past.
Each night they eat my liver dissecting
But each day is mine; see your tears on drain
They teach you bliss as curse and curse as bliss
Break your chain ; look at the history in niche.
Madhobilota whispers in my ear
To tell ye fight the curse,as me sans fear.
Partha Pratim Acharya
25/2/2018
