Suicide Diaries

by on January 4, 2021 :: 0 comments

I don’t switch on
the television
others do, everybody
does, so it matters
less and less, or
more and more
I mostly take a cheap
slow bus to an
advertising agency
and sit down to write
anything they ask
for as long
the night wind
blows a little
into my rough
hair, before I
plunge into the
subway crowds
and stare at
women growing
impatient with
their feminine
selves, so they
push and plunge,
and thrust me
out with their
backsides, dripping
sweat, the water
of life, for a while
I say, dear friends,
let me sit in the
dark and think
about killing myself
and yet I find
they’ve broken the
latch to my door,
‘cos I’ve thought ‘bout
this before, so I
crouch under the
mosquito net to
kill the day at least

– Sreemani Sengupta

editors note:

A dead day, at least, is followed by another. – mh clay

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