a perfect cube
white noise
my gift to you
bare white walls
infinite
try not to breathe
try not to sweat
try not to kick and squeal
and i thus leave all my attire
this century old city and its desires
a perfect cube
under white light
silent noise
no air no smell..no curled up sleep
and what did i leave?
such questions shud not arise
2 comments:
are gifts supposed to be such entanglements ?
i dint mean this as my only gift!
...for some days whenever i sit to think these mathematical ..precise figures come to mind....a perfect cube..is not perfect as a poem..i had other expectations...but i turned up this way...
a perfect cube may be a zero hour...may be perfect management...or it may be a an endless curiosity...and eternal maze
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