Treasure Island

Devanshi Khetarpal

(17th March 1999 / Bhopal)

Allochthonous


I see
brown daylight
taking three
steps down
the staircase.

Tripping over
my skin.

Boiling it
to the ignoble
tears, my heart
sheds too
often.

Making my eyes
burst into
clouds.

The origin
of the rib-tickling
bleeding, ain't it?

I see bearded walls
caged under deprived
touches.

I am a good
wrangler
now that I own
words that speak.
And I have no skin left.

Those coverings,
were feeble.
They simply wound
themselves
over my
pulsating arteries
but they never
really dared
to stand
the pitch.

My arms were
broken and I was
living on
path at awful
poison the
cemeteries usually
made me drink.

I have been
looming over the
pointing,
piercing,
cutting edges
which scissor
their way
through.

The emerald sea
is bouncing atop
the sea bed.

But I,
I,
I...

cannot forget
what those
little jewels
have done.

The light was broken.

It was in discord
to the quadrille.

But it has
snatched me away,
and
dragged me
across sands
and
the heather
that is placed
far apart from
where I belong.

I am allochthonous.

Submitted: Monday, December 30, 2013
Edited: Monday, December 30, 2013

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