By Rajarshi Batabyal
Deep down the deepest crevices of my mind,
A primitive essence of apathy has been left behind.
Untamed, unbound, uninhibited.
Unconventional emotions of gratitude,
That cannot be acquired through my servitude,
Towards the misleading decrees of this society.
The unfathomable surge of gratification,
Imbibed from this maximal predilection,
Towards the mental wounds inflicted on humans,
Has remained inexplicable, by this mind itself.
Infested by worms of mental dualities,
My mind spirals,
Around an axis of orgasmic sadism,
Like Countess Bathory herself.
It needs to feed itself,
The horrors of the common men,
Invoked in them,
Through the bizarreness of interactions,
Among those inexplicable mental vibrations.
This psyche relishes the beautifully grotesque,
And the macabre corpses of those minds,
It succeeds in terrifying.
For age immemorial,
People have tried to understand me,
And tried to fathom my reach,
But ended up destroying themselves,
Burning themselves in the fire of hatred.
Growing out of such mental pleasures,
My mind need not teach itself,
It rests, peacefully,
Beyond the visibility of their inner eyes,
Inside the deepest crevices of its own mind.