The Insane Poet
By Fiza Pathan
The world is screaming in my ears
and the cosmos has hatched a plan against me.
I’m wrecking my life with my own hands.
I don’t want to go up
neither do I want to go down─
my head is in turmoil and my nose is bleeding
due to the pain in my brain.
Get rid of the sound ─ get rid of the noise
don’t keep on telling me that I’m in the wrong
and twist my eyeballs in my sockets.
I’ve got to get stronger and fight my way up
but the sound makes me squeeze my gall bladder
to bring out bile through my ears and eyes.
Stop pressurizing me with work
and words of stale wisdom.
I hate to read the musings of the learned─
grant me the opium of smoke so that I
may lie asleep in a trance like cradle.
Your accusations make me want to run and burn myself
in the roaring flames of the dragon’s fire.
I try to keep away from your scrutinizing eyes
by sleeping in a graveyard with
hag like witches as my companions.
So stop pressurizing me and finding fault with me
─crowds of snake catchers run after me
to make me drink venom
and then I am forced to scream.
My scream is a holler which breaks glass and
scatters the flock of witch hunters away for good
for I am tired of penning down my thoughts
and all I want to really do now is scream.
I am afraid to awake from my sleep these days
as I sleep in a coffin in the mud in a newly dug grave.
The ghouls of the night make me wail
to the moon who is my tormentor
─she makes me realize the blemishes of her face
within the night of darkness.
I try to cope with any barb of poison
that you throw at my face.
But stop the noises in my head
for it makes me want to scream.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/775614