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Delhi Mountains


There are mountains
Just outside of Delhi,
Made of decomposed
Human souls and carcasses
Of dreams

Children play knee-deep
In filth, even as
The vultures watch
Cavernously hoping for
Them to Die
                          
 Among the broken toys
And discarded condoms
Stories lie broken with
Rusted promises and
Mangled desires

Monuments of defanged
Glory lie buried under
Tons of ruined organic
Peristaltic pumps bearing
Witness to the cancer
of our being


The stench of putrid
Human existence takes
Over the neighborhood,                                     
With the amorous promiscuous
Prostitution of our senses
Piled sky high
Just outside of Delhi

--




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