Mad – Day Twenty-Nine of NaPoWriMo

Tonight will be a spectacular display of our emotions

I buy a bottle of wine, a basket of sunflowers

You bring the matches, the paint

And as usual,

All the wrong things to say.


I break the glasses, you burn the flowers

I kiss your tears goodnight

And we head back to the same bed

We call it modern art.


When we wake up

I start from the right,

You from the left

And we paint the walls white

Tonight will be another spectacular display of our emotions.


You buy three bottles of wine, a basket of roses

I bring bigger glasses, louder voices,

And a few more forgotten memories.


The flowers are wet

So are your eyes

You’ve ruined it

They don’t catch fire, they’re drowning,

And so are we.


The house is underwater

And there’s no place to breathe

I’m drowning in my bed

You’re sleeping in the bathtub

Three bottles were too much,

And the walls are still white.


They say a man needed to lose an ear to discover himself,

And another trusted his liquor to lead

the fingers over the tiles of his piano

That beauty comes at a cost

And for years, I was convinced that we were enough.


That every piece of art we make

Must smell like

Smoke, or mattresses, or flowers,

And echo with the sound of

Your voice, your scream, your silence

Smashing bottles, and pouring wine

They’re all the same now.


You tell me our room is built over ashes

Stop talking

Everything exists and disappears

And disappears and exists

Stop talking


The sun rises in the east,

The wind is always salty,

And one day we will also end up

Becoming the ashes being built upon

White doesn’t look white anymore.


Tonight will be another spectacular display of our emotions,

Our grandest exhibition of art

I burn the couch, you drink your lilies,

You throw the glasses, and I-



Your hands are empty

And the walls are missing

It’s 3 in the morning

And I’ve been staring at an empty room all night.


Written by Sushanth Reddy for MTTN

Artwork by Ashirwad Ray



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