Of Djinns and Genies

I don't do make up
When I cry so much
Smudged eyes are bemusing
The damp  drying in my eyes stiffening lashes accusing.

So I look through wet lenses
A subdued enbalmed world

The sounds go by like distant galaxies removed from mine.
I'm imbued in silence.
Horns honk bells chime
Kids  yell pain yanks
The water delivery guy rolls noisy bottles to quench thirst.
Metallic clang of gas cylinders the delivery man bangs upon my door.
I wonder how he would react to see me huddled upon the floor.
Deranged disarranged.
And hurriedly get up to impose decency check reflection in the mirror damages repair
Looking respectably forward to liquid petroleum.

While liquid love listens to life gurgling
And hangs it head in shame and hides inside and tugs heartstrings from perversity.

The money paid  I smartly lock   myself in.
The Djinns of lamentations are soon let loose again in the empty flat
Bottled genies wail unrestricted at the walls
Walls wailing back
and forth
This freedom is desolate baby's
Forays without caretaker.
Not an adult liberation from fears.
No my brighteyed face is a hollow uncertain moon
I grew up the girl inside
Needs to soon.

All rights reserved
(c) Amrita Valan 2014