Bound In Everything That We Do Poem by Pinaki Dewan

there is in the pine a pain of standstill strangulation a cold wound a coagulated mind and the dark rattling the hesitation is it true the cocooned kiss the dilapidated sex is it true the ferry rushing down the eyes crawling into your pores immuring you is it due the unmitigated clout the unrestrained shout is it there is always a little wiggle room in your heart melancholy riding tandem behind satisfaction you would have met her in the screen dying between layers but you decided to remain in the sound we are all bound by our instincts bound to be savage in all that we do or intend to do there is no freedom