The Ailing Poem Everyone who has read my poems Has at least once or many times asked me If something is wrong with me, my mind, life, body, And it's saddening how my poems have made my mother Feel bad about herself because she thinks It's her fault, her incompetence, That has made my life miserable. But none of them remember what I answered When they asked what is wrong, I said - nothing, it's just that I love my poems As much as I love graveyards, Something must have died i

Still Life with Skull, Leeks, and Pitcher by Pablo Picasso (Assume all trigger warnings) Until the mo(u)ring flickers in an oil lamp again by Shailja Bahety The red silk light escapes the oil lamp and settles in the sky while the night shatters inside its glass and the dawn flies away with colours for yet another mo(u)ring. The world is what it doesn't seem to be. It is a pool ball on God's billiard table, who wears a linen maxi dress and is never drunk on prayers because she