Pāśupatāstra Poem by Somendra Gaur

Attempts to befriend myself are failing,
As,
The Quotient of self-exasperation leave me Ailing.
Is this Depersonalization or Metanoia?
Vincibly Prostrating in front of mirror to send myself Apologies.
Experiences with Anhedonia had taken me into a lot of arms;
That were just abodes.
Affection I need is Nowhere to be Found,
Why do I even care about the Looser I Sound.
The Weapons I have are all Futile,
&
The Gates of my eyes are too Fragile.
Do Not Disturb,
My Ardour Contrives to Die Slowly.
Id est EXILE.