Cheating

Cleavage 4

When you’re just a pre-pubescent child
You learn the art of cheating, a flu
That you don’t have, or a tummy ache
That is feigned becomes your modus operandi.
Slowly you upsize, first to an exam cheat
And then to the contemporary
When you’re cheating on your wife.

Its never easy, to let go of that one thing
In your life, pledged before God, to be a miracle
On its own right, the break-proof, weather-coated
Bond that stills you in that purgatory
Of security and eye-range. The eye it is the root
Of all evil, the first looks and second glances
The outright obvious that falls like lightning
And exacerbates a sleeping monster.

And one day, you will draw courage
To offer an invitation to a woman, the need of the hour
Mightier than the needs of the heart,
And you stroll to a compact room, cheap on its merit
And make a little pact-less foray into
A little gravity-prone moment, when nothing makes sense
Except what your tips feel, the bombs
That detonate at the very termini of senses
Drawing you like a magnet, to a moment
That loops around and around – you’re near
You’re so near – it bedazzles your flesh
To a degree of freedom, only guilt can overcome.

And cheat is a little place, oblivious of the soul
The craving body that oozes a little courage
Like the type you get out of a red-hot instant noodles bowl
When you dip your tongue on a spoon
And slurp the soup. The comparison scares you.
Its instant flesh in quick time, no foreplay
Or little moments that clench the surrealism,
She is heated in her own microwave oven
And all you can do is sip her and then drown
In her. The moment escapes you too soon
And you’re in that rubble, guilt in the first degree.
Cheating is just that out-of-heart of experience
When you wear your body like a space suit
And plunge yourself into a new planet

A planet that leaves no memory, just amnesiac time
Drawing your capsule too far away, too soon,
Just like that bowl of instant noodles that you slurp
Out the last bit, the innocuousness glaring at you.
Those stocked threads of flour that fills you
Up till next morning and leaves just like her
To a brand new day. The heart, that capacitor
Of polar moments that grip you with strange chemistries
Holds you on a ledge, a feeling of drowning
Taking you hostage and just like the Dead Sea
That body of guilt, can take no other life form but you,
Salted out of a reality you cannot fathom.

Guilt comes out like toothpaste, slowly out of the tube,
It makes a fake smile glow, a mirage that you
Slip out, in dire need, to camouflage the real you
A bloodless cadaver, clawed by vultures,
Not knowing how much more white blood cells
Are there to hold you, when you’re immuno-compromised
Slowing drifting to a pale, shallow persona
Searching to reclaim your immunity, when there
Are no vaccines for the dire gravity
Of home-brewed guilt.

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