Since you touched me, I became a walking typewriter

Since you touched me, I became a walking typewriter

Since you touched me, 

I became a walking typewriter

brimmed over with so much laceration, 

that i will not even feel the crick 

even if Inland Taipan comes and 

kisses me with its venom packed 

with taipoxin. 

Since you touched me, 

I became a walking typewriter

pervaded with so many imprints of yours, 

that even i get a tattoo in the dermis 

layer of my skin, it will not say goodbye

to my skeleton an inch. 

Since you touched me,

I became a walking typewriter

as you murdered my pride with 

those killing hands, which i glom onto

enshrouding the black holes of this cosmos. 

Since you touched me,

I became a walking typewriter

as you bowled over my life 

with those charming smile 

which turned out to be malignant

like a cyanide. 

Since you touched me,

I became a walking typewriter

as you left me insane 

by your sweet morphemes of twinge, 

that even mental asylum have no 

therapeutic for the trauma which 

I have gained. 

Since you touched me, 

i became a walking typewriter 

puffed up with scars and depression, 

that will at no time be cured even if 

i rest in peace enclosed in the pillars 

of transparent crystal instead of coffins 

of the Macrobian Ethiopians race.

Since you touched me,

I became a walking typewriter, 

whose life is transmuted into a doom

when painted by the unwanted love 

given by a beauteous devil gloom. 

Ayesha Khalid