If the city is muted today, let me sleep

with the glistening rain, like the restless

eyes, drooling over the vagues desires,

memories have a quick run, faster than

a light span, flash, flash, flashing lights

hovering my face with bare minimum,

I see it—to die slowly.

The city sleeps in where dreams dissolve,

disappear between walls, mirroring on

the dead’s face mask, in the hundred

places, moving to the motionless street—

the tired faces bore down the crowd,

All I see is the world stretched out.

The city is awake with warm darkness,

Thousand stories wind down the street

In new light, in the yearn of darkness,

I see the myriad fall, one by one—

peeling the layers, dull aches of slurred

pain, surging the desires burn in our

forgotten-million faces.

The city echoes of half regret to-night,

The clock ticks off, no one wins it back

In the fading fast light, I see the world

a little bit more grey in the tireless face,

I hear the restless breath, trembling

fingers, rummaging on the music sheet.

Who cares if the city dies out of air fire,

Minutes passed out as hours, one goes

late in the silent street to-do socialising

with the folks, living, loving the old fire

pit, so they quenched the thirst in

renewed desires.

My fingers hushed down the rapid whispers,

It’s madness, drive-in by half love, half regret,

Forgetful cities don’t get to talk to-night.

— 20th September, 2024.