Rush Hour

“Tuesday” By Anamitra Ray

There's no cadence 

in morning rush hours—

as anger burst like atomic bombs

and words splattered 

like spilt tea on a white sheet;

Clamoured by the frustration 

from the brevity of time

Even self-consciousness 

becomes un-conscious

as it swallowed benevolence

as it unchewed conversations

and devoured the serene day

Into absolute dysphoria.

This wild madness

in morning rush hours—

ceased to immobility

as we rush in through the day

yearning for reconciliation 

at the penance of a guilt trip;

May be the ritual of our madness

Pays salary to the oblivion and owes

debt to morning rush hours

                  This wild madness

                   in Morning rush hours.