Out of Sync

First published in Modern Literature, July 2018

“I am terrified by this dark thing
That sleeps in me;
All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.”
― Sylvia Plath, Ariel


How the body moves


into zillion specks of glass

powered and brushed

to its core

but still every speck of it

can pinch and draw blood 

can leave a scar

on your supple and nimble soul

How the body forgets the definition 

and crosses the dimension 

of pleasure and pain

when the old haggard memories start dripping 

from the ashen mind

which turns a new page every day

only to dog-ear the older ones,

with the oil stains

How the body breaks and shatters

the inner cacophony

you have tried for eons

to suppress and not to surrender,

becomes the divine rhapsody

to which your body dances 

even if the soul detests.

The overpowering phenomenon 

the push and pull of the 

devil in disguise

this constant struggle has started showing

breaking up in wrinkles

and in the crow’s-feet

marking and stabbing 

piercing my body

and marking its territory in time

This tattoo work and the endless crocheting

has left my soul weak

frail at its edges

these sharp edges are 

unable to align perfectly and 

I’m out of sync 

this constant whirring and

whizzing has given me motion sickness

and I’m a mute spectator

of moments fleeting by.

My body is out of sync

and the reason is undefined.

Photo by Felipe Furtado on Unsplash

10 thoughts on “Out of Sync

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