You Should not Get Angry with Me

i see you in a bottle of beer 

looking sharply at me

as if trying to know a top secret, which i never revealed

as if i never loved you, but pretended

you ask me to tell you every little thing

except the way i had sex with my ex-girlfriend

you're not liberal enough to listen to that damn thing

listing, thinking, re-imagining and.....nothing!

baby, even the government doesn't reveal everything

when they have many to say....they say "nothing"..

then why should i? tell me.

i drink and drink and get drunk

to seriously think of you and me

i mean, us;

not even the bloody families

shall i compare thee to a summer day?

i quote Shakespeare for the first time in ma life

but, then, i re-think:

why should i compare thee to a summer day

in this rainy season where

we have to do so many crazy things,

like sharing hot kisses here and there

when the whole discourse is critical of my subalternity

i totally lost my masturbatory fantasy

on the day praba was killed in the name of peace

that dream was never realized in this fantastic-reality

on the same day, my ex officially declared the full-stop of....

since then i'm in search of my eelam even when i touch your hands.

what if i was a bottle of cool water in your hands?

will you hold it closer to your chest,

i mean t-shirt?

(c) subaltern

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