Canvas frayed and novel,
Timeless strokes, stains, tang
Memoirs of blinking eyes
Briny tears, salty gore.

Brews in the perfidious core,
The taste of wasted wits
The savor of unaccomplished reveries
Of decease, of defiance

Death is a marvel, a vision
A revelation, a folktale,
And life an exhausted legend,
With ebbing spells, fading charms

Lured by the perilous summons of the shadows
Enchanted by the mysteries of time
Of desires, of hopes, of spring
The canvas remains nude, our souls empty

And then the call of fatality
The whore who offers it all…
Escape, illusion, the alleyway to infinity…
To the end of life, or the beginning of conviction

written by ananya chatterjee