Tired of immortality, Dorian Grey sought,
To go for a haunt of LSDs, to revive cheer and dream of,
Theatrical evenings, falling for a receding Sibyl,
He gallops into crumbling dens, carrying a vinyl,
When age-matched perfectly the glistening face,
The vinyl, pocketed snores, dreaming,
Of morsels, of parchments of different things,
Promising lovely greys, wrinkles and coloured paper in rooms,
More playing cards, in toothless of grins and thinking to buy wood carved coffins,
Of all his wholeness today, the perfection without acne,
Underneath that dermis,
Are pieces of cells, divided through the chasm of living, moments ebbs away,
The white, dry, mud, falls into eyes, covering mirrors, and whispering,
Who am I?
I am a research scholar in the dept. Of Social Sciences, IIT Madras, India. I am passionate about writing and poetry. My works have been published in Outlook (web), Feminism in India (FII), The Tribune newspaper, Trouvaille Review, Burgundy Balloon, New Asian Writing and Women's Web.