A little too familiar with death

I’m a little too familiar with death

No, not the pain

Not the tremor of turning into ash

But ive always believed

When a person dies, they’ve gone

To no longer realize that they are dead

But the ones who see a corpse turn white

Those are the ones who know

What death does

No, not what it means

What it does

When I turned eleven my parents were away

Maa slept next to me

Woke me up wishing me birthday

When I was fifteen I cried

I was in an alien place and I

Needed a touch that loved

But my mother wouldn’t come to me

No, she stayed with my maa

And I was so angry

I refused to speak with her

For weeks

The summer after when I went home

The clouds slipped from above

A car took me to the hospital

And my grandma was there

Because cancer sucks

A few months later

A night kept me up

I studied for my exam

Memorising bits and pieces

The other hand stroking maa’s head

And in a stupendous faze

That morning before school

I told her: I’m ready to let you go

Her fight had exhausted her

I didn’t know she would hear me

So when I came with a good grade

In a traffic that subdued the joy in my step

I saw maa lying there

She let go.

The little that remained I kept

Next to my heart, in my ribcage

Two years later

I let it go

She rose from the ground

Of my old house

In all her serenity

A good fight

No, a strong fight

And now, the whisk of it

Is coming back again

As nani lies on the bed

Of stagnant artificial oxygen

Exhaling empty medicine bottles

Her arms and legs I cant make out

Just yesterday she would cook me

The food that won her titles

And now recognition skips her

No, expression does

A reaction does

Something I’m craving

Ive seen it before

And I don’t want to again

The familiarity of death

Has struck me once

A punch gloved with nostalgia

Right on my left cheek

I can’t stop crying

I don’t want to let go

How selfish am I

I can’t stop crying

senses: smell

She sells antipathy in every joint she rolls
When she walked over to the end of the street and entered the little store
Eyes raking for some barbeque sauce but the nose
Detected the marijuana
At the tip of her fingers was wrapped a wad of cash
(Earned by explosion)
Just happened to slip by to hold onto something much more rejuvenating
To her
To her senses
To her repugnance
The stale hot air resonated a shrillness coming from her heart
Repititiveness brought not the hair on the nape
To lay still
As she got to that which she was hooked
A conscious decision, a cruel nook
Back home she threw the plastic of jewels
So careless in her stride
Her home – a dump of invaluables
Herself being one voiced her pride
There was a stench of misery and hatred underlying what poverty cost
Her anger was directed to a calm that bust
She brought out the necessities the room had witnessed
Haphazard ingredients cooked to set alight
The fire inside her
Surrounding her
A miasma so pungent and distant
From what happiness smells of
The scrunched weed reached inside the nails of a hand she commanded
And the first puff she took exhaled destruction in the air
Screaming, you motherfucker
An idea it was so ludicrous to believe
That enmity had begotten even more from her
That smoke emitted charges
Desperate in the face of hope
But she continued living on the very smoke
That made her nose numb to all
But marijuana
And him
Her escape was not addiction but freedom from the stench
Of the air the greens spread
Right outside the window that won’t budge, jammed in
So maybe, life was a blunder
She chose to smoke with
Cursing without chagrin