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Writer's picturethe graveyard zine

A Phantom of a Dead Sea

by: Saptarshi Bhowmick


I sunk through the Stairway to hell,

Now it’s so heavy how I feel,

Like a boulder on my chest

And a nail, nailed in my heart.

I question thee,

Have you ever felt like this?

Like buried alive in midwinter

Or being alone in the deepest pits of earth.

I hear a shrilling scream_

In fear I looked up, though

The sun is shining still,

Only black rays I see, only black rays I feel.

On my skin it leaves the mark

Of a rinsed cloth and a dead bark.

But I, with the sensation of bleak,

Feeling the numbness on my fingertips:

And whatever it touches,

Starting to beat like a pulse,

Though the origin is blank,

A fruitless phantom of dead impulse.


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