Stagnation is a disease

It pours


Stale milk

Instant to the Tongue

Heavy to the Touch


Stagnating thorns

Superfluous     &



“Let it bleed”

The carpets were

Meant to be cleaned


Stagnant, the word itself

Stuck between

Thought and motion


Red dots circling the drain


Or the Ether


The blatant disregard of form


Stagnant to the touch

In between teeth


The world was on her feet

Dragging across glass


And it unfurled into me

“The words are at the trough…”


It gets lost in the static

Particles of asbestos


An oblivious



“These fingers belong to someone else”


I’m unfazed with cruelty

The stagnating result of




“Like when you are numb”


And the mouth never existed.



© A.R. Minhas 2016


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