Faded

I stagger on the velvety call of the night;
the meandering silences
which a while ago had been ruptured into a burst
And smell still lingers in the air.
I stagger again on the velvety call of night
With the bullet wound on my chest
stumbling through the few remnants
of the silvery grey beams
Thrown my way by the peeping moon.
It looks serene like a child playing hide and seek
with the passing cloud;
seems to be teasing me throughout
while the stars mock me
their winks reciprocating their joy
to the pain I have dragged along.
I stop at some ruffles, clothes was it?
Or perhaps a bird flapping it's wings..
It seems my senses cannot identify the exact source..
May be just may be
It's the dog hiding in the bush.
Can it smell my flesh. Can it smell it all?
Is it waiting for me to fall?
Oh yeah the bush, something's swishing behind the hedge
amidst the bushes
Of tragedy perhaps?
The bushes like me, are condemned to be
symbolic to something dreary, mystic, moody
where multitudes of secrets are
clogged with the slitted throats
forced shut mouth
Charred body, bullets bolts
Ripped clothes, torn shoes
and buried high notes of weed song.
I see the same bush in me
and the "hush" in me
the impending rush in me
that push in me
That shushes me to survive.
I drag myself over the lane
Blood dripping out of my vein,
the stained shirt
hazy thought
burning torso.
And so blurry eyes
escaped sighs
and beads of sweat
running downhill.
The air-fairy circles me
evading my senses though
and my legs halt
Sudden,
Expected yet unwanted
My knees crack
and throws me down on my face.
At the onset, I see silhouette
some lights, flashes of some kind
few distant cries
like the mosquito
that buzzes on periphery to the plugged ears
And the tired me close my eyes.
Last I remember
the concrete is warm
Perhaps coz it is summer
but the warmth is fading gradually
And I am trying to remember my name
which seems a distant memory by the second.
© srijaprasita