Metamorphosis

Night screams in colours people say

But even my dreams are black and white.

For the colors that I had dreamt of 

at a wee age of ten

was snatched away by those groping hands 

those I thought would protect me instead.

To date I feel the crawl of that roaming fingers.

To date I feel the weight of that sweaty chest

the very one where I had rested my head and slept.

But the weight then felt different

the breath familiar yet strange.

To date I feel the dreary exploration

the suffocating lusty ministration

To date I feel the intrusion

and my plea of suffocation.

To date I feel my gagged scream

and the tears of blood I shed.

To date I feel the helplessness

and pain of my innocence in shreds.

So now you see I am peeling off

Every single inch of my skin

to free my self from those imprints

permanently etched upon it.

And when you see me throwing up

the blood in my veins

know that I am trying to reshape me

for I am the blood of the one who raped me.

©srijaprasita

Until You

Do you know how it feels like

when the warmth recedes

leaving you buried six feet under the snow?

I know how the murmurs die down

struggle dissipates

along with the dreams

and muffled screams become whimpers

leaving behind echoing silences 

scattered over the vast stretch

of snowscapes.

And I know this because

everytime you wear your vanishing cloak

spring leaves me unattended

Summer forgets to rise

and me, the Bohemian soul,

singing effusively morose songs of solitude

waits for you at the wide junction

by the boulevard of my love

waiting and waiting

as the snow piles over me

freezing my heart.

Until you

come again

knocking on my door

thawing me 

and melting my solitude.

©srijaprasita

Hiraeth

Underneath the deep saffron sprayed sky
I try freezing the tide of time
holding onto the diaphanous
sheer cover of
the impending dusk
inadequately.
For,
despite my efforts,
the voices rise
as the light dims
and the night screams of solitude
for the eyes to see;
chaotic for my memories
that comes out
one by one
through
the locked doors
of
my consciousness.
My distressed soul then delves
deep into
the benthic woe
relentlessly fighting
dystopia
And
as my nerves
sediments
underneath the current
I become homesick
for my home
which
never existed.

My spiderling

My teeny tiny spiderling
came back to me crawling

"Hey spidy doo, how you doing?"
"Oh no spidy, call me Bing"
"What? How? Who named you?"
"There's a people, doodle Doo
Laying on a comfy bed
and the bedsheet nasty red.
That people did want a fight
But then he did scream in fright"
"You lie Bing, you are wee"
"No doodle, I did claim he"
"How did you? Prey tell?"
"That people sure did yell"
"I still think you are lying"
"No right now people is dying"
"You didn't sting? Did you?"
"People's round tummy peek-a-boo"
"What? Noooo. Not the tummy"
"Yeah doodle. It was yummy"…

Eww was my first thought
But then my spidy is a fraud.
He must have just ran away
and false claim is just his way.
And then my tiny friend
Lays on his back and starts again.

"People was dumb, doodle Doo."
"Oh really? Is it true?"
"Ahh yeah people turned his back
Coz courage, he *crawls* did lack"
"Now Bing, you are not making sense"
"Me does, he was people like you
But he was pretty light too
Wanted to have a creepy fight
But people turned away from my sight
People cracked a joke so lame
Would even put you to shame
So me without wasting time
Stung him, tummy and nose
Crawled up to his fancy dome
To leave people be and return home"

I know very well my spidy
he is a liar of first degree
Yet I cannot help and thus do think
Of the poor man suffering sting
From my naughty spiderling.

© srijaprasita

reverie

As I reach the finale of my finite dream
and as the sweet escape comes to an end,
Once again,
I find myself looking for
limitless and boundless streams of fantasies
humming through my senses.
The reverie where I suspend myself
is where you exist
like the dream flower that blooms
amidst the strewn twigs
of my submission.
With my wistful smile I move,
I know not where,
following the glistening trail
of your footsteps.
The whispers of the crashing waves
from the ocean of affection
calls out to you.
And, I am
the only one who comprehends
the silent echoes of my heartbeat
that rings through the hills
of your world.
I see myself halt once and hide twice
while you stand there
with your arms wide,
an open invitation for invasion.
A phone call jerks me out of my daydream
and your name flashes on the screen.
Reality sinks in, fantasy ends
and I know we are just meant to be friends.
Yet you do exist , on the other hand
as the protagonist of my Dreamland.
© srijaprasita