Just last night, I was so obsessed
With a song
As it reverberated with my body
That remains
It monopolised my entire bosom
And did not
Let me sleep a wink
Now, the dancing b*tches
Have torn
Everything apart
They pirouette
For male gaze
Like dogs in heat
And look like the desserts
They make so round and ridiculous
Love for them is joy
No meaning exists without it
For instance! The maid rushes
To seek the very first gaze of her lover
Many have forgotten distance
Sophism consumes them
As they claim to speak
What they do
The actual case is the reverse
Of proclaimed promises
The sophists only claim and quarrel
And forget to find reasons
For their incongruence with facticity

Lastly comes the girl.
Who is so femme
Filled with desires
Ravished by her kernel
For she was taught by
A witch dressed as an angel
Who only breathes poison
To spellbind herself
With her woe
Ergo, she forgets that
Fellows exist apart from him
Who gives "her."
Intense and inexplicable joy.

She sleeps with her blues.
And wakes up as a jay.
And talks incessantly
There is a poetic impulse in her;
The gait represents it.

Sometimes, she searches the draw.
Day after day
To carve out a scar of his name
So deep
That no tune would
Ever be required
To express the vitriolic magnitude

The girl as an entity
Does not exist
Only her essence does
She is a transcendence
Which is sore
For her, windows are always open
To devour his supremacy

Even in her remote corners
She is not immanent
As she has never
Embraced permanence
As her prime
And has never taken
Dominance for granted.