In an Attempt to Explain


Chunks of argument stick to his teeth, and he drowns in an abyss of sugar sweet pretence. The white noise of his thoughts soporific, though he’d rather be without them.

After several wines of discontent, his preferred drink is the gin of silence. He washes away the sweetness of demons with lemons. He devours biscuits of ineptitude for comfort. He’s not hungry but pushes what he must down his throat, otherwise he’ll desiccate, become an emotional husk in the morning.

It’s hard to immerse a body in the troubles of an irrational mind. So he takes what he can, and slips away unnoticed, with the stealth of a criminal, but with less remorse.

His memories are his saving grace. He drowns in the density of aborted dreams. 

by Nod Ghosh


 





















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