Numbers and Desolation

We all have been there,
alone and desolated.

With a mutual disregard
even for the infinite tones of the sea.

Counting the uneven days,
when a bowl of unexplainable rage
was refrigerated within the spaces
between the soul and darkness.

The numbers kept us hanging.

The fat man and the little boy,
slipped past some fucking numbers,
leaving behind annihilated dreams
sublimating to the zenith of a nuclear cloud.

The beginning of a countdown
is the recipe for your destruction.

tick-tock, tick-tock
do you feel it?

Spiraled Staircase


that night,
to write,
to wonder
I sat on the spiraled staircase,
waited to spiral down inside
my thoughts,
my past,
my life ,
then I knew
like it has no beginning,
it is never ending
Like words,
and this poem,

*Experimented a bit, Try reading this poem first from the very first line and then from the very last line in reverse order*. Do comment whether good, bad or disgusting 😀