The leeches crept into my soul;
They crept into my bosom
and messed me with blood;
They crept into my soul
and picked holes in my body.
They punctured, butchered my tender life
and left my heart gasping.
They crept unnoticed, they slithered into my flesh
and made dinner of what makes me.
And I felt it not.
I felt it not as the blood seeped,
As my arm tingled, as the draft
of cold air sent a lightning shiver.
I felt it not as my trouser soaked,
As the leeches grew fat,
As the crusty scabs in dirty red dried,
As my slippers slipped with slime
and made the upward climb such a
toil.
As my arms got numb,
As my legs screamed in despair,
As my back revolted in pain.
I saw them not
As they clambered for their feast,
I saw them not even as I fell at last-
hungry, pained, listless, drained.
I sat on the ground
dirty with dust, grimy with grey
grass,
I sat on the spongy grass
And saw a faded world.
Faded sky washed with shapeless, lifeless clouds,
Faded road picked with potholes, and
My faded pair of denims.
My faded pair of denims shining with rosy redness.
My denim full of life, invigourating.
My denim torn to shreds,
Gasping in the last throes of a lost sunshine.
-5/11/2110, Calcutta 63
