Search
  • Neuro Logical

Cure - Akash Ali

This love is a hospital bed,

I’m tied to it with leather belts.

You both scream you have a cure for my illness.


It’s always been 2 against 1,

the whole city can’t be mad,

there must be something wrong with my brain.


In your scrubs; overdosed I spot specks of you.

This love smells too heavy and repulsive,

like cleaning detergent everywhere.

I miss the sunny scent of orange peel,

it’s skin undressing with the sound of a plaster ripping,

and I miss the sugar glazing my tongue.


Now you both force my jaw open

into a 90-degree angle,

piles and piles of shingles until

my mouth holds a mountain of your poison.

You let go of my jaw and like a stapler

it


shuts


the


fuck


up.


My teeth obediently bite on what they can,

c

r

a

c

k

c r a c k

crackling

between the off-white squares.

I choke

on them pieces

and spit out

the metallic blood.

Your voice echoes: eat up,

it’s only popcorn and cherry syrup.

I can taste my own murder.


Bio:

Akash is a 21-year-old Pakistani poet from Manchester who started writing few months

back. He has work published in The Open Culture Collective, Resurrection mag, Tealight press,

and forthcoming in the Pocketfirepresents.

48 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Mr Peach Believes - Mike Hickman

Mr Peach believes that we will remember him, he tells us as such, one lesson, when handing out the sheets. He tells us he gets stopped on the street by former pupils, keen to resume the acquaintance,

Pottery - Diarmuid ó Maolalaí

the dingle peninsula. a potters workshop. some elderly poet, retired from writing to pots. his new work, apparently, gets displayed sometimes in art galleries and various craft exhibitions. a sign say

Babes in Arms - Gary Beck

The avenues of our cities teem with enraged children protesting gun violence violating our schools, nurturing grounds for the future. The righteous cries fill the air demanding safety measures to prot

©2020 by Neuro Logical. Proudly created with Wix.com