time capsule

all these years erased, memories faded
to blots of ink&dust (rewritten and smudged

in/by a whirlwind of a mind)

nothing is real (nor unreal) in an unchanged sun’s
beckoning light, that falls cold
on the fullness (red pulp &orange rind) of my ripe skin.

this air is not the air that carries
voices &smells across the plateau of another time.

years that were gone/erased —

i never left, never became
a person (more than a hollow bone &pain)
never knew of my left side from right —

as i enter the body
i left behind,
it opens —

dreams drained of any colour, swallowed portions
of rotting needs, all figure in my deadpan speech,

all slow motions to a dead end, as in a little disk of a film,

b&w, sepia, deepening into monochrome lines,

breathing, talking, ageing
but not alive.

.
© Anmol Arora

Image source (The Past is Present by Ellen Brook)

Linking it up with my prompt for dVerse Poetics on Portals

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funny story

it’s kind of a funny story-
how disgruntled life can be,
in short passages, we lose,
find a reimbursed amount
of despair, the ache to let go,
not dragging anymore one day,
a step taken where winds await,

a story told, yet is unknown,
the body counts, owe nothing,
the end doth come without cure

(For Ned Vizzini)

.

It was sad to know about the passing of Galen Haynes, aka G-man. May he rest in peace.
Linking it up with Flash 55 at With Real Toads and Poetry Pantry at PU.
Image source 1, 2

“Life can’t be cured, but it can be managed.”
― Ned Vizzini, It’s Kind of a Funny Story