The Pain Fillings

The breeze fills in the vessel of wound with toxic molecules.
And submerges it in the burning Ganges of fuel.
The magma pumps the pain up the brain.
The heart is pulped by the lava of strain.
The magnet cannot pull away the rusted fate.
There is no time to reverse the day;
The clock was set from the late.
Love cannot regulate the flow of hatred.
Darkness clots the eyes’ vision, less to view the sacred.
What resoluteness makes the hands write hope and erase hopelessness?
Some imperceptible cosmos will is bringing them back to senses.
The ink cartridge is spitting verses on the cellulose surface,
The cadaver is driving life cycle again in the death race.
Till the syllables separate from the word
And the pulse can no longer be heard.
Till the skin unwraps the skeletal frame,
All the painkillers count nil in the game.
Then the body biodegrades into soil
And the blood irrigates legends which grows and survive.
The deathless soul navigates the Celestial City of Immortality,
May be it is above all, dead or alive.
Wonder how some things are still living.
Being on death row, humans believe in willing.
Coughing the pain out in the sick ceiling,
And filling the veins with reanimated feelings.

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Gaurav Juyal

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Social Activist. Poet. Adventurer. Excursionist.

• The Pain Fillings
• The Trailblazer
• Shoemaker
• The Artist
• King Serpentine

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