Is the air too putrid?
or
is it your presence that's
crippling my lungs and
choking my guts?
or better,
is it me-
the creator of this
delusional love-
crumbling with vulnerability
and get threatened
with the sweet poison
you've infected in me
right through my core?
but,
in my delusion,
you were the antidote
to all the evil,
so,
wont you help me erase
your fetish touch and
set ablaze your
sickly sweetened mouth?
will then,
my delusion attain peace?
shall then,
i find my love of tranquility?
or
should i burn?
to feel purified
so that my sacrifice
will bear me
the purest of all the emotions.
or
would i forever have to
be the prisoner of this illusion
of quiet submissions and never
ending delusions?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem