Sowmya Hiremat

Like Hades with scepter
Galloping a pale horse
It moves under my skin

This itch of discomfort
Of not doing it all, 
Of not doing enough

My mind feeds this 
Ugly thorn bush growing
Insatiably, out of control

Suffocating my heart
My soul. Wrapping  it in
Dark, despondent clouds;

In which thrives the
Fear of not enough time
Spiraling my being ..

Into a dark worm hole
An abyss where  I loose
Gravity, Sanity, Vanity

I float devoid of direction
Sans sight & in despair of
My mortality & lost purpose

Some days are this way ..
Like nights with no moon or 
Wind, hot and dreamless..

With no desires, to keep me
Alive I feel dead. 
But that’s okay.

For we all have to ride
The pale horse of death
On this road of life.