Dream on the rocks (A Wet Poem)

He dreamt of dreams dying young, cowdung,

he ate his mother’s lullabys

he sung

ballads of heroes unsung

Fate, he had been told

quite old but bold

sagging butts

cigarette stubs

eternity diluted in sinking pubs

where he drank

his sloth,

moths been served

in froth with desserts

poured in tall glasses

made for wine

stinking divine

with corpses from middle classes

working five to nine with

liquefied eyes, black rimmed glasses

with their

nullified veins

stupefied try(s)

magnified pains

classified sighs

petrified shames

 

In his dreams

he robbed trains

with windows full of

faces

of pre-matured puberty

with traces of semi-cooked liberty

with jaded shadows reflecting

faded sorrows

 

In his dreams

he drowned

in the sea of hopeless faces

with lost eyelids

with ‘O’ shaped lips

on a forgotten busy street

on a deserted Tuesday morning

among countless shoulders

and scattered chatters

eyes as big as a full grown lemon

staring at him

while he drowned

 

In his dreams

he saw curtains

lost in them, lots of them

with patterns, stripes, colors, textures

curtains

he ate

naked limbs of young woman draped

he gulped

a pale yellow snake

with purple wings of a snail

snake slept in his heart

after biting him on his tongue

he puked cowdung

and ordered another round

of a customized sound of a tender mob on tenterhooks with dirty cooks.