Kolkata, India
Some days the breeze sings a lullaby and I curl up and let it lull me to bed...
And somedays it plays truant and I'm left flirting with the whoring darkness...
longing for a familiar tune in the bowels of the bitch that is night...
Crazy, crazy nights of galloping white stallions on twilight beaches...
Of pink smoking waters and weak suns.
And what I think is the moon are two pearly white crescents
looking down on me like lucifers horns,
while I try to build castles in the royally camouflaged purple sands.
Oh, how pink is my Picasso?
Oh how electric is my world...Paint,I say to you,paint my visions in psychedellic shades...
but please don't magenta the already blue pain.
(Ilustration: Prodipto Roy, My Little Magazine)
