A few mishaps old.

[prasangana]

Parallel lines intersecting is mathematically not possible, yet in a parallel world, I would coalesce in your breath, and breathe a little to hold the warmth of it. To be broken by you is a young way to die in love as if I am counting my time on a battlefield and picking swords to save you from the edge of vanishing, but only if war could change time and people stayed. It's an unfruitful fight you see?©Prasangana Paul

[prasangana]

"What are the two saddest things?"

Heart as a shipwreck of emotions and death, in which, the person who leaves is liberated from mud of sadness, but the one who is abandoned carries apologies in their chest pocket. Both of them love flowers, but while one places it fresh on the grave, the other makes a garden of the graveyard.

[prasangana]

[prasangana]

October,

Rusted leaves make an echo of every heart that is a vessel of drowning cemetery, halt of a wanderer, unearthing home in the fragrance of incense burner, jovial heart running an errand for the elderly, a benevolent call of lovers with sunflowers on their wrist and blue freckles.

An outpouring rage of wretched clouds, coming out of the cabinet and filling the cavity in their teeth with courage, plastering the giant Gopuram on the sleeves of a flannel shirt, metal cheek calling for war.

Wombs bearing the sword, revolution ticking the clock, slaughtering the enemy of humanity on the stay of Goddess, gut a zebra crossroad, walking catacomb draping in love, a satin sheet of vigour, wailing in the debris of euphoria, slowly undressing with the sky.

Prasangana Paul, October left a void in my heart.