Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Reading Humbert

My eyes scan the lines,
My fingers touch the cover,
I can barely contain
The loathing;
The aftermath of your
Lustful and vile rancour.
I sense your mind traverse
The length and breadth,
The tone and colour,
The aura of that fiendish seraph
Who deigns to feed your longing.
Oh this woe begotten memoir!
There isn't a beginning to its end.

P.S.- A hint to the interpretation, 'Lolita' by Vladimir Nabokov.

2 comments:

anuj said...

Awesome! Seriously, good stuff!

La Diva! said...

Merci beaucoup :)