I Hear Things And I Feel Nothing.

“I have shared secrets with you…”

“Oh Dead Mother!”

“Come have your pills. Depression doesn’t look good on you.”

“It’s just a coincidence that you wore red today.”

“I’m masturbating in public!”

“…And let’s abort this thing.”

“And why do you care that our generation is the worst?”

“You didn’t taste that way before…”

“And I’m learning more about you. Every time we feel each other.”

“Just remember– The Dream of a Green Sunday.”

“Meat has turned raw, my existence is a tragedy.”

“White-Chocolate Cheesecake is the escape, and I feel nothing for you.”

“There was love once…wasn’t there?”

“I think and there was an illusion.”


(c) A.R. Minhas 2019

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She Offers Flowers

She offers us flowers

And I wonder about the milk that was never served

She Offers us Flowers

And all I can think about are your eyes

How I would like to separate the light

The chemicals that split apart

            I fed your love to the children of the street

She offers us flowers

            And her petals lubricate the darkness

I have served my loneliness well

            Indifference is the thing that kills

And you served me flowers

Hungry still

            I devour your Nectar

                        Blood on my gums

My Tongue swirls in the ozone layer

I served your breast on a plate

            By the fireside

                        The ash is your Flowers

Sprinkled in that afternoon

                        Fucking Blue

To keep my fingers

            From the third eye to the other one

She offers us flowers

            And I can only serve you cold meat

If you are my truth,

Then you are my hurt

            I let it bleed

                        A scab that is worn like a battle wound

                                    Mottled entanglement

The flowers are raw

            And I am burnt

If you serve them again

            I have to refuse again

Indifference is the thing.

© A.R. Minhas 2018