The overlooming persistence of PSP’s treachery
carnates like an animated perennial smog over New Delhi!
So, should I train my guns on my own armies
because I fail to exorcise them off him?
There is no sacredness in the feigning of
loyalties to my enemies. And I shudder to think I may
have to bequeath them my soul or my energy, that they
should thus claim rampant illegitimate victory out of the evil done to me!
I am immersed in preoccupation, Jashmina, that
how can I love you, when my love for you is my saboteur?
And do you wake up to my sacrifice, or conveniently
comply with the evil against me? I have not made my
soul subservient, but you have made yours, and in doing so,
have compelled mine. Should I say my wizardry, my
miraculousness must glare at self-defeat and be lost to bewitchery. Even more tragic
is the fact that your fortress is built on fear. I feel the stench of
cherished flesh being consumed by a wicked depravity; and there is little I
can do about it but watch you skewer it for the cannibalistic
fish of the deep sea or for your evil Dada! I just think that love goes beyond the
vandalism of its subject but turns the subject itself into
an ossuary where the relic ceases to be sacred. My
sanctity and my sanity, Jashmina! And the deathtraps
you create for all that and all those I fight for!
montes-musings.blog 