The Unstable Line Drawn Here


An unsound bell rings.

“No one lives here”, screams

whoever remains semi-soporific inside.


Why sleep when you can dream –

no one rings the bell,

no one alive anymore except


you, the last drinker swigging

moonshine made in

an earthen pot of ancient rot?


The bell rings and whoever

denies his life breathes inside –

in his soggy trousers,


torn tee shirt, (remember

who chose those?) rejected Marx,

wine soaked couch and in


his voice loud, locked in his head –

“No one lives here. Leave this

address alone.”




Kushal Poddar
Illustration Nick Victor




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