poverty's child

whoever you may be
be as a blood
to a bleeding answer
i am a wound
who lives on blood
like a beautiful leech

the last 
hundred rupees
has been withdrawn
suddenly

everything turns
cold and numb
like death!!
misery
like a gangrene
ripples into my
blood
bones
and maybe my skin too!!
ambushed
bruised and defeated
wearing the carcass
of penury
i run from everyone!!

cousins

acquaintances
neighbours
shopkeepers
the newspaper vendor
the cable guy
and my weather friends!!
buried in my cocoon
i go to
the darkness of my room
where hunger is my only friend
the smiling cup of tea
my only solace!!
battling monsters
in this dark obscurity
' now ' after ages
i dust the cobwebs
of my mind
as i try to write
about

this cursed
and damned
poverty's child!!

even this borrowed bidi
has now started

showing tantrums

it refuses to light

this flesh is really sad
but i laugh :) :)
as i rot
and burn

in this fire

of
poverty

:  rupee is an Indian currency
   bidi known as poor man's cigarette is an Indian cigarette wrapped in a tendu