Writing in the season of lunacy

Oh look,
writing has arrived
in the season of lunacy.
How timely
and kindly
pushing its short-lettered wheelchair
looking out for my fall
any moment might happen
festive accidents
improbable healings
parties gatecrashed by undertakers
death comes in disguise
the furtive mate with the assertive
giving us offspring of blessings
and powerful prescriptions
lasting as long as obsession
injecting hope in generous doses
at the Intensive Unit of Despair
filling the void with more words
filling the blanks with explosives
filling guilt with narcissistic forgiveness
filling shorter days with blinding fire
filling the insane with saintly ecstasy
filling the bed-ridden pulsating memories
with you.

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