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  • Akash


Updated: Sep 7, 2021

Moments and smiles 

are spiral roses

woven out of fate.

Swift untidy scribbles

that define life

turn out to be absurdly beautiful

in the dead of the night,

after giving out 

breaths and sighs

of secret, swirling smoke.


Howling dogs

with ununderstood messages

cry desperate.

Old guards

blow their whistles at midnight.

The whistle piercing through

the fake silence.


The whistles want to say maybe.

But it seems

the old guard doesn't know

that everything, at all times,

is getting plucked and sucked 

into a black hole.

An infinitely complex knot

that ties over into itself

as you try and try and try

to untie it.


Everything is a disease.

A visual misconception

somehow bound together

with these uncertain strings

that makes you dance on its will

day after day after another.

It's absurd and bullshit and beautiful

because tomorrow, or one day

everything will vanish

into a whiff

of stinking, cigarette smoke

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