the sadness

I have seen things you would not believe 

helicopters chopping away at the moonlight

children gently touching the burn marks on their shoulders 

naked inside derelict staircases

bathed in chlorine and lasers beaming from afar

shining forth from the goa plastic-pillared temple 

of our holy mother of the midnight 

and I've seen Shiva in their midst, but nothing of them in shiva 

spirals collapsing back into spirals

I have seen it all glued to my chair 

hand on my mouse in a Nosferatu grip 

before the internet got consolidated into four websites

back when it was much more like a CRT screen, 

back when it was 10 times warmer, 10 times more capricious

back when it used to mostly deliver 

porn for ants and friends from far away 

and I have seen Sadness slapping its wristwatch 

just like Ben10 used to - under raven kaleidoscope heavens 

I’m just a girl who’s stacking up canned tuna - half asleep - 

on supermarket shelves all packed with lindt

chocolate, resting her head on her shoulder

her cheeks draped in weird absinth

blush, singing along with the voice in her headphones 

so dreamily yet barely getting the gist

I got that summertime summertime sadness 

spirals collapsing back into circles - with us in their midst 

and I have seen your sadness 

descending through underground passages

late at night, through huge pipelines dripping at their joints

like old people sitting up - at the end of their beds

in the middle of the night - frozen solid in their gloom

your sadness like a gang of schoolboys fighting

dragging their feet through hoarfrost

holding hot donuts in at least one hand

kicking each other in the shins  - somewhat careful not to drop them

sadness no. 7 when the night is hurtling towards monday

grabbing the magic by the neck, pushing its head in a pillow

and scattering its brains - like an angry cat in a litter box

sadness no. 31 when all you want

is someone okay to be sad around
and yet it’s simply not possible

151 new and exciting varieties of sadness

now in their shiny version you gotta catch them all

I’ve seen the nth and umpteenth reruns

chliché ante-prequels post-sequels part three

of that movie of us collapsing back into me

and there is no one no-no-no there is no one

no-one left in my midst. but you see

this summer will drop dead 

one thursday. these moments - grapes burnt together

with dead leaves, on the vine - tears we shed 

amidst rain fractals will be lost in time

and longing and unending, and free -  

these black waves with no tether