Room No. 1111

She will come, you will come
It was just yesterday
We rolled together in that blanket full of stripes.

You had pounced on me, coming out of
your woolen grasslands.

A few deaths were assured.

A kill ought to be savored for four days.
Though it ended each day in a life;
in a hope.

I wanted to reach you
I wanted to make the grasslands, not woolen.

How I wished the window was a device
for my memory card.

Today I want you to arrive once again.

‘Adjust your shutterspeed’, my partner says.

As I don’t want to be murdered
by a dream once again

There you are.
Those stripes are golden.
You pounce.

How much I had waited for this.

You pounce but away from me.
Wait. Don’t go.

What are you doing?
Why are you following for a fading? Cries my partner

My partner –
the hotel room on the twelfth floor.


Book mine for room no 1111

Sorry Sir,

the room has been sealed.

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