QUOTE : Stark Electric Jesus <br /><br />Oh I'll die I'll die I'll die<br />My skin is in blazing furore<br />I do not know what I'll do where I'll go oh I am sick<br />I'll kick all Arts in the butt and go away Shubha<br />Shubha let me go and live in your cloaked melon<br />In the unfastened shadow of dark destroyed saffron curtain<br />The last anchor is leaving me after I got the other anchors lifted<br />I can't resist anymore, a million glass panes are breaking in my cortex<br />I know, Shubha, spread out your matrix, give me peace<br />Each vein is carrying a stream of tears up to the heart<br />Brain's contagious flints are decomposing out of eternal sickness<br />other why didn't you give me birth in the form of a skeleton<br />I'd have gone two billion light years and kissed God's ass<br />But nothing pleases me nothing sounds well<br />I feel nauseated with more than a single kiss<br />I've forgotten women during copulation and returned to the Muse<br />In to the sun-coloured bladder<br />I do not know what these happenings are but they are occurring within me<br />I'll destroy and shatter everything<br />draw and elevate Shubha in to my hunger<br />Shubha will have to be given<br />Oh Malay<br />Kolkata seems to be a procession of wet and slippery organs today<br />But i do not know what I'll do now with my own self<br />My power of recollection is withering away<br />Let me ascend alone toward death<br />I haven't had to learn copulation and dying<br />I haven't had to learn the responsibility of shedding the last drops<br />after urination<br />Haven't had to learn to go and lie beside Shubha in the darkness<br />Have not had to learn the usage of French leather<br />while lying on Nandita's bosom<br />Though I wanted the healthy spirit of Aleya's<br />fresh China-rose matrix<br />Yet I submitted to the refuge of my brain's cataclysm<br />I am failing to understand why I still want to live<br />I am thinking of my debauched Sabarna-Choudhury ancestors<br />I'll have to do something different and new<br />Let me sleep for the last time on a bed soft as the skin of<br />Shubha's bosom<br />I remember now the sharp-edged radiance of the moment I was born<br />I want to see my own death before passing away<br />The world had nothing to do with Malay Roychoudhury<br />Shubha let me sleep for a few moments in your<br />violent silvery uterus<br />Give me peace, Shubha, let me have peace<br />Let my sin-driven skeleton be washed anew in your seasonal bloodstream<br />Let me create myself in your womb with my own sperm<br />Would I have been like this if I had different parents?<br />Was Malay alias me possible from an absolutely different sperm?<br />Would I have been Malay in the womb of other women of my father?<br />Would I have made a professional gentleman of me<br />like my dead brother without Shubha?<br />Oh, answer, let somebody answer these<br />Shubha, ah Shubha<br />Let me see the earth through your cellophane hymen<br />Come back on the green mattress again<br />As cathode rays are sucked up with the warmth of a magnet's brilliance<br />I remember the letter of the final decision of 1956<br />The surroundings of your clitoris were being embellished<br />with coon at that time<br />Fine rib-smashing roots were descending in to your bosom<br />Stupid relationship inflated in the bypass of senseless neglect<br />Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah<br />I do not know whether I am going to die<br />Squandering was roaring within heart's exhaustive impatience<br />I'll disrupt and destroy<br />I'll split all in to pieces for the sake of Art<br />There isn't any other way out for Poetry except suicide