the prose of vikramjeet sinha

It was in these shallowest of nights
we discovered that there are salts in our wounds
that glisten in the night
where the stars are hidden
in an angry delight
then under what cup cakes of desire do we lie
under what haze haunting street does that desire gets washed away

so what is that thirty thriving mongrel
within me that washes away that piece of dizzy desire
and to what heights then do I climb to dangle
these are stray moments which dart out
and catch that longing
longings which lie still and then arise out
of that marshy moment where that last hand that stretches out
and disappears in the hollowness of it all !

Then out of all that you
Reappeared gently
Your breath was a whisper ,
a husky corn in a field where gold rushes in,
And in that public private gaze and your dark eyelashes stare,
Intently and your whisper then becomes that blade which strikes
And then comes that
Thirst!