i live on
Your wall,
a hanging man
in the middle
of a tunnel eye,
a face, fragmented,
black to the core.
i live on Your wall,
a dying fish, or a
burst of colour
that the centre
cannot hold.
They live on
my wall, a
stream of photographs
on my sea of faces.
i live on my
wall, a peeping
man staring at me
when i sleep.
Anirban Kapil Baishya (15/1/2012)
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