Poem | Ayush Gowala
how do i write about
me
when i find my-self miss-
-ing
i call i: 'i' out of habit
does it refer to me- my
absent-
-present being
this ownership of identity
is mere
survival
i count myself
without
finding
it
--
this negation
refusal
shame, almost
do i know
myself
to the extent
that it punctuates
this
unbearable heaviness
of being
what's this
ennui on the mirror
that looks at me
as if to devour-
empty shells
of oysters,
stranded by
unconcerned feet-
that movement of life
-profanity
these lights of redemption
are of no joy to me,
the green, the blue, the yellow, the brown,
-bites me,
haunt my reverie,
every moment
a labour in delusion,
Turgenev-
-stop
!
---
i survive without
living
to be without a be-
-ing
is not life at all
it's what the earth does-
revolves
without
ever moving