25 | desperate

Desperation — a plea, sucking too hard your breath, crawling around on your back. You see, that's what makes you do, beg for life, beg for mercy. When life is putting edges on threshold, you are supposed to mean with figments of others perception, yet perceiving — why to when? That becomes a deliberate sigh— you're bewitching the sight, aid for remedy? Who freaking cares, milady? Nobody, you're battling with god—forsaken—truth, lying straight on your face, you're fiddling with girth, and little bit, slowly edging — iffy that point, you're desperate in need, shackles in the fire pit, morning glow with burning smokes, everyone's looking for bugs in water, and you're making silent pleading — save it or lose it! A desperate need, pleas of greed— just once to breathe, shudders with whiskey touch— you're alive to be burnt. Despair makes you go before, desperation makes you live after.

— 27th July, 2023