funhouse

this trapeze act 

does not draw curtains;

it cuts its own ropes

to approving applause

they sang

life spectrum

a single strand of light
falls broken.
on my hand, a million pieces.
and yet,
when i walk away,
its whole again.


the warmth i can sense,
it skims
so gently on my skin;
and yet,
when i draw away,
its cold again.

around me,
everything i see,
is real. or is it;

if its the light,
that makes it so?
tell me...
don't you know?

dissociative.

(c) image copyright to Meghana Naidu, 2009

thoughts Escape;
twist away
from my mind.
archived threads
(my microfilm life,)
weave around my fingers.

light unfurls;
as If
from a hidden core.
the rays burst
force to reveal
(its etched memories.)

Amidst this
i stand,
a sombre witness
to vivid apparitions;
(autoscopic reality)
which i never created.

They mock.
Refusing to stay
I walk
on (altered) Consciousness.
and take flight,
leaving It behind.

...I walk on consciousness and take flight leaving consciousness behind...