Poetry 2019 Longlist, ManiMahesh Garg

I can’t

I can’t sleep.

I can’t.

The pillows are hard and rusty

With recurring deaths of my past,

The sheets are wet and oozing

With blood of my crimes,

The air around is filled and choked

With smoke of my thoughts,

The walls are cold and damp

With surreal paintings of my dreams,

And,

My room is lit, unusually bright and itchy

With the conscious light of my ever-growing guilt…

I can’t sleep today.

I can’t.

I won’t.

And I think

I don’t want to,

Anymore.

Let all of them

Eat me

Slowly

As I stare at them…