Yellow bees and shedding trees
Tuck Autumn into memory
Fallen leaves and dampened streets
Bring season to each breath ~
Though Winter's close as podded peas
And Spring not so far off,
The beauty brought in each closed petal
Means Summer's sauntered on

i. let the flower crumble in my hands
my hand moved of its own violation
no petals just fine powder
ill make a new lipstick to wear

ii. i take my coffee with chocolate now
my hard liquor with water
down my wine like a shot

iv. these festering bugs are my halo
muddy feet to mark the path to avoid
good nights rest in a cesspool

iii. jaw popping like a *****’s gone lose
if i cut my tongue off today
i know it'll grow back twice as long

v. red in my pocket and it's not even blood

As the moon shines
And the stars decorate the sky,
A lonely owl hymns
While the bats fly.
Lightning bugs scatter around
Like will-o'-the-wisps at night,
Without any sound
Oh, what a delight!
The neighbour's hound is on guard
She will not allow anyone to pass,
No one is allowed in her yard
At this hour, only a fool will walk on her grass.
Her howl pierces the air
Bringing an end to the silence,
She announces she won't share
She will not tolerate any form of violence.
Across the street, few floors above
Two players are taking their turns,
In the famous game of push and shove
While a tiny candle burns.













Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018.
All Rights Reserved

The dirt in line with your toes,
the grass in line with your ankles.
Your arms jump then freeze,
your fingers touching the grass.
Nothing has ever seemed so real.
But, it is only a moment.
You begin to dig and
you keep going, you don’t care.
You don’t care.

Pestilence growing in your nails,
refusing to see the grass, so flimsy,
now that you finally had the courage,
to hold on to the dream.
The dream that abates in line with the thought that follows-

Why god, did he do that to me?

Sweat accrues, and you wipe your face.
The dirt from your nails beseeches your face.
The clock is ticking.
You stare into the hole you are making.
And as you do,
you feel the grass beginning to grow once again.

Your fingers, greasy, yet you remain dedicated.
Dedicated to this craft!
Dedicated to this destiny!
But you can’t stop the grass, time is running thin,
the rain has begun.
You must finish.

You dig more and now, now,
finally, the water slips from your cheeks,
landing in the center of the hole.
Creatures,
with endless and dazzling tiny legs you dream of come out of the sides,
only to find that they, too, are merely experimenting.
Ripped grass tears through their bodies, and as your rip it out,
so do their screams. You hear them.
Begging just for one more breath,
before you crush them with your feet.
But the hole kept shrinking.
But their screams wouldn’t cease.
More kept coming from the ground.
Begging for peace.
You disrupted their lives, and so,
you must **** them all.
They simply needed a way out of this.
You thought you were doing them a favor.
You thought you were doing them a favor.

Your hands jump back to your face.
Their screams remained,
or was the memory just that vivid?



You’ve grown tired.
Leaving your motionless state
was enough.
You can’t do this anymore.

You made the wrong decision.
But, now, the disease has spread.
Running out of words to describe,
Is just the beginning.
You hear the screams returning.
Do you not deserve this?
You can’t move at all.
You feel, nothing, but,
regret.

More creatures escape,
and surround the murderer!
You beg, you beg, just for a response.
But they just stare.
Moving as eternity.
You beg for mercy.
But they have none to give.
And the rain becomes too much.
They drown one by one.

They scream standing.
You hear birds in the distance.
Finally, the rain has gone,
and, finally, you are
above the clouds watching peace take over.

i like bugs.
they remind me
that life is important
on a small scale.
even the most frustrating
are beneficial to nature and
our ecosystem wouldn't be the same
without them.

except mosquitoes.
they can **** right off,
the ***** bloodsucking *******.

we leave the crumbs of our breakfast
on the windowsill, where we can watch
the ants arrive, and carry them away,
to their hills at the base of the maple trees.
they can't talk to us, but we can sense
their tiny gratitudes.
skin against skin, and tongues against
tongues, the glow from our faces is just
enough for the moths to recognize, for
them to want to dance around our heads.
they bask in the light of our love, and we
know they feel it too.
i live to see you smile, the kind of smile
that shines so brightly, like the way a leaf
beetle's shell does, when the sun decides
to hit it in a way that's exactly right.
they don't notice their iridescence, or how
perfect they are.