Theme: Disillusionment

The Ride

We tumble out of bed like slugs

dragging our torsos to fulfill 

the mundane daily rituals

of being husband and wife,

banker and lawyer,

father and mother

to unborn babies, sacrificed

for mortal pleasures.


Their invisible lives emanate from

the burnt toast, popping out

from the methodological toaster,

timed, precise and crisp -

like our thoughts and calculations,

of which property to buy or how

to clinch that promotion or pay

for the Mediterranean cruise.


The shadows of the dead

cocoon us, draped in the 

miasma of broken faith,

ancient wombs, rotten earth.

We carry the scent of the

living dead as we die living

the life of marital silence

and material piety.


This is the way we drive to

work, everyday, enjoying

the ride and solitude,

which takes us far,

far, far ahead in the 

race against everything

common, mundane

and lame.


More By  :  Divya Chandran

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