Gambling Metaphors

27th September

I’m trying to unlearn your name, so i pronounce it differently.
Ironic as we call it, I repeat it incessantly.
Beauty killed, I heard from the age old, but this was the work of the ugly, my new age foe.
I don’t know if I’m happier to have a better life or sadder to leave you behind.
I know, It’s so deep, we refuse to erase the scars of our time as we mistakenly call it love.
May be I’m close enough to make you feel I’m still around, when I’ve actually walked miles away.
Sometimes the dead is alive in your head.
Sometimes the alive dies a thousand deaths.

Gambling Metaphors

Ugly Poem

It keeps on growing like the moss on the old building in the rainy season, like the fungi on an old man’s “rusted weapon”.
It keeps on showing like the stray dog’s itch, like the chain smoker’s yellow-brown teeth.
It keeps on stinking like a vagabond’s armpit, like the big momma’ 3 day old bra, like the fish in the dump, like the dead rat hiding under the sofa.
It keeps on giving in like a man with no spine, like a drunkard who finished all the wine.
It keeps on repelling like the one white strand on a strange man’s mole, like the greedy pig’s burp.
It is ugly, i know.
He is the ugly, i say.
I tell him everyday.
I mean them all in every way.
Love is the only beautiful part of you tonight.
Your ugly tests love everytime.
It is ugly, i know.
He is the ugly, i say.
And, I mean it all in everyway