• sagnik_sarma 26w

    notes for dementia

    the first pictures were of dirty panes,
    how eclipsed skies crystallized in them,
    how abandonment held me on a cold floor,
    playgrounds had finally refused me
    they argued that misery isn’t a good sport
    there are better bets with a coin toss,
    we settled, final terms on a chalkboard,
    deserted the quiet sunsets meant for us.

    my quaint wars didn’t have last stands
    only seizures of rain and napalm,
    gunshots aren’t a terrible lullaby
    when their barrels opened up to you
    dead stars floating in your pupils,
    the saints and demons called a truce,
    for the unnamed painter
    who died to his muse.