Pumpkin

The title is in regard to the sentence in Dhumaketu’s ‘The Letter’, a beautiful story:

"Meanwhile, the door would be thrown open and the post-master, a man with a face as sad and as inexpressive as a pumpkin, would be seen sitting on his chair inside."

In a state of block.

Not caught in the middle, 

But imprisoned in sole vacuum.

And I am robbed of my emotions.

Except that of confusion,

And in humble honesty,

I say,

That of anger.

I want to crash the glass of poison,

That’s trying to force itself down my throat.

And scream at it.

I want to scream at my emotionless self,

(And) The perfect timings I choose to be –

The most boring person in the world.