Poetry – Pradipta Dey


I take a sip.
And my throat burns an ounce.
It’s just a swallowed sentinel.
I find my friends, grins awide,
looking at me
I tell them, pour me another.
I take a sip,
this time my head slouches a bit.
It’s just two pegs
I find my friends laughing, hysterically.
I tell my friends, I’m not yet drunk
They tell me, it’s okay.
They pour me another.
I drown it whole, and with it, my sorrows.
I find my eyes, widened, happy at who I have become.
I tell my friends, I’m just a bit drunk.
They tell me, they’re too.
They’re my best friends, and they pour me another.
It’s just simple water for me.
I drown it again, and with it, comes reality.
I take a sip, but this time,
from my pool of tears.
Because my friends tell me,
I’m crying incessantly.
I drown it again, this time it spills onto my conscience.
I tell my friends, I’m quite drunk.
My friends tell me, not to take more
but I take the wretched golden Ambrosia
And pour it whole, this time, with it I drown myself.
I tell my friends, I want to sleep.
Maybe, forever.
They tell me, I’m meant for love.
So I should love.
And I realize maybe they’re right.
I take a white roll, with an orange posterior,
And I light it, and with all my might
I try to suck out it’s damnation
Oh, so much for euphoria.
If only, the cigarette knew it lived my life.
I tell my friends, my heart is not beating,
They tell me, maybe I’m not human.
I fall off my chair, and I vomit, leaving a speck of blood
On the floor.
Maybe, just maybe, I’m dying.
I tell my friends, don’t save me.
They tell me, I’m their salvation.
I keep drowning, I know I’m myself.
But they pull me out, and I see I lost my home.
I’m just a little not human.
I don’t take a sip anymore,
I maybe was dying.
But my friends tell me,
My mother is sitting back at home, waiting for her for heart to return
I understand, you are just a fiasco waiting to be real.
And I,
I’m just porcelain, playing into hands.
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