Anindya Nahar habib
Could be
You are Sartre”
Sohorab
Camouflaged in those glasses and slowly deciding to befriend Camus.
Another victim of time and agony.
••
All there was all there will be are, your misery, but you sleep well. You don’t dream nor do you wake up bugged into Samsa.
•••
You hardly remember the last time you cried or that dead end night when you couldn’t breath anymore and died.
The next morning did you open your eyes and glared at the emptiness the night left in your glasses?
You never could know how much this country hated you. For never accepting the prizes they offered. All you threw away like that Nobel and took the knife hidden in your drawer.
Cutting your heart into bewildered shapes you refused them all. And thought, ” Am I the ghost or the deserted taboo protocol of colours”
••••
Does your breath fog up the mirror?
Do you see a yellow t-shirt and soft scribbled anger?
You hate fool-moons. The stars and the shines.
Yet you are maybe Satre- A ghost-A memory-An Ecstasy of unbreakable nightmare.
The words are for Shorab Rabbey