Bottle

On a Monday morning
No no, Monday night
Yes, it was dark
I had some wine
Hot sour wine because it was outside
Snuggled in clothes that hug warmer bodies
We were hiding the truth of a glass bottle.
That heat from heated clothes is in my heated bones.
Tiredness circles in circles around my eyes.
I am laughing at the urge to throw away this
This garbage. But I can’t.
This bottle is garbage now-
A waste of space in a forbidden place.
I had 2.67 cups of it.
Yes, from the same cup I have tea twice a day
But the caffeine doesn’t affect me now.
After 5 hours of sleep and dreamy soups
My day collects itself into heaps of unfolded clothes
Sitting untidily at the obscure corner
That is now a part of the blind spot
In my round peripheral vision. Suddenly I see flowers in the bottle. Purple flowers from daylight. Breathing in the wine. Tipsy topsy lopsy.
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~insight07

Access prose and poems in my book, “Dreaming in a Fish Bowl”!

Link- https://rb.gy/nbxljh

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Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.

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Love and Hope

Glorify my living body, living memory
In your mind, words, actions
Caress and feel me like I am
A human, a human
I don’t know what will happen tomorrow
Or an hour from now.
My web of relations is vast, this world is unpredictable
A garden in my chest, I don’t know when which flower
Will get crushed, or bloom, or wither.
I am but a human, with so much love
But so much dread. For my knowledge is limited,
And faith, even less so. I have tried to pray
Pray, pray, pray
It seems in vain. This idea that is older than my own self
A thousand times. A god looking down
At all the gardens that grow in people.
I have attached myself to mindless actions
That align with my passion. But there is a hope,
An endless burning hope.
No matter what, love and kindness conquers all
Or even if it does not conquer and there is no war,
It prevails over all.

~insight07

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Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.

Strange Friday

People wear beards of masks
and tan lines,
a face that is sunny and in shadows at the same time.
Lips have lost their shape, they come in question marks
and full stops.
Or maybe a delightful oh!
at the surprise that is a friday after a thursday after a monday.
Oceans and buckets of water
absorb light and shine as if the light is their own.
Photos are smiling and clouds are floating
with no thought of their own
Unoriginal, much like the pink and grey muscle
in my skull.
Sometimes, I shake my fingers in thin air and imagine them as wisps of spider homes or
Jellyfish with electric rays.
Oh!
Maybe an octopus with eyes on tentacles (their skin can see).
Birds on my skin fly mid flight into a sky
Without clouds, without sun, without light
But still, an ocean or bucket- maybe five.
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~insight07
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Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.

Headache

The spaces between my fingers feel odd
The spaces between my thoughts feel odd
Is this my coming of age moment, I wonder
Or is this a crisis settling midlife in me.
The new people in my life
Are as good as humanoids
That my kids will probably see growing up, if they ever exist at all.
My mind feels like a hole
My home feels like a hole
In a world so absolute in vivacity and vitality.
(I am not talking of the human civilization).
Some 27 walnuts put together,
The bowl of my skull holds my thoughts-
Inverted towards gravity my feet hold onto the ground.
While I swim in the numbness
Of a round pill I had consumed
27 minutes ago.
This headache has a rhythm of it’s own.
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~insight07
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Copyright ©Devika Todi. All rights reserved.