Sensory

Here’s a poem that I penned during my college –

I sit watching the orange emptiness around me, my eyes roll towards, past the half open widow, at the empty road shining orange-gold in the street lights, extending into the dark buildings fading in the horizon,
I see a car passing through the trees in the form of flickering flashes of headlights moving ahead,
The omnipresent reflection of closed shutters of shops with colorful flickering lights hanging parallel to each other on my glass window,
The loneliness of my AD process.

I hear voices of a group of men, oddly in a, leisurely and in rhythmic volumes, discussion.
And the dog's barking, on almost a conversational cue, slowly fading in the still of the night.
Murmur of the gentle cold breeze,

Bringing in the smell of fresh cold dryness,
To the peculiar smell of my 3x4 smoky room air.

I taste the heat of the high in my closed mouth,
My water-less dry mouth.
I feel the bloodlessness of my raised right feet,
and cold creeping on my warm arms.
I realise the weight of air on my chest and the feeling of my heart beating,
I feel blood rushing into my heart, my face, my cracked lips,
And the psychedelic desire of lust like high..

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