This is my dream
A caricaturized truth woven
In spiders’ web and
Pulverized veins, warm
And squirting, molded
With the flesh of the living, watered
In blood, kneaded
With reality, a dream
In the illusion of Life, sticky
Do you constitute as real, or are you
A figment of my imagination? Worse yet,
Am I a figment of yours?
I do not know and I doubt that I will ever find out
Does it matter anyway?
This is my delusion, this is what I chose,
Trapped in a hallway of mirrors,
Ensnared in hapless eternity, because
There hadn’t been a choice, there had never been.
I dictate your terms or you dictate mine
And it is my decision to accept or reject
Because it is my dream, or I
A figment of yours.
But as all dreams go, we cannot control the circumstances
The instances are inconsistencies that revel in deeper calamities
But I can choose to wake up too early and let the dream end
Dissipate, disassemble, disintegrate to crumbly little nothings
Before its time is due.
For I am but a single drop
In an immense filthy ocean
Of pollution, corruption, unscrupulous exploitation
I dream of emancipation
From this insipid, vapid satire in which
We eat, drink, fuck and fall away
I don’t want to count the stars,
And wonder at those glistening points
Nor wander through the untouched thicket, Pffft!
Who has time for all this!
I don’t ask for much. Never have.
Simply not enough time, nor patience
For self is the centre of it all.
Minutes fall around me, hours roll
Away, like pebbles
From the hands of a child
But do I dare whimper? Or shed a tear?
Thick skin as they say, like cow hide
Beaten down, so many times
I hardly feel the pain.
Those you love the most are the ones who enjoy watching you bleed. And
sometimes you need to ask yourself
Have all that love been in vain?
Hours roll, unfeeling, just as years have rolled before them
With the heaviness of machines, well oiled
Tired eyes, tired heart, spent and alone watch on
Where did it begin?
Where to end? Should it end? Questions
Those painful hooks, tear into the flesh
I don’t wear white, for it shows off the red
Of a wounded bleeding skin.
Haven’t you heard?
Simplicity is the hardest thing.
Less is more, more is less
Who makes these rules, where do they bend?
Can they bend?
Questions. They know
No answers. Life
Is such, as we constantly tell ourselves.
But is it really so? Who makes these rules?
Where do they bend? Can they bend?
No one knows, does
Yesterday I felt your absence,
Right beside me, like a perilous drop
From which I edged away, fearing for life.
Emptiness overwhelmed, overthrew
What little sanity was left, as
Hip hop beats pelted all around
Like paralyzing darts at a
Sore, swollen heart.
Have you ever felt how lonely, how barren
These club beats make you feel?
Well, you know how this goes,
Every time I look at myself in the mirror I
Try so desperately to catch maybe
A glance of your smile in my own eyes, a splinter
Of a memory perhaps trapped within
From when I last held you.
Well, you know how this goes.
When feelings overflow I throw
Handfuls in the air and catch
What I can on paper, try and build
A bridge to you with words, but
Does that bring you closer? No, but I try.
And there I sat in a lonely cab homeward
Fingers itching, to ruffle your hair
Heart a wriggling mess, scratching itself in a frenzy
Mad with longing, just for a feel of you.
Yes, so your absence gives me words, bittersweet
On the tip of the tongue, but
I’d much rather have you instead.
Intervene you must, oh fate
You funny little thing
Cruelty is your second nature, mystery
Being your thing.
Butterflies flew over head, while
Smiles popped lips like flower buds
Eyes locked, intertwined
Knowingly pregnant, exquisitely
You had to make your presence known, didn’t you?
Some sulk in dark corners invoking
Whirlwinds of ominous sighs
While others disappear into the dark, dark night, shedding
Petals of longing behind.
Love is a word that never belonged here, of which
The syllables never touched lips, around which
Tongues were never curled, a word
Shrouded in confusion and feeling, a word
Merely whispered in thought, in secret
In the dark recesses of the mind
Sentiments sucked in by empty vessels of
Thundering silence, inner dementia
Creating illusions, breeding
Dark and pungent
Hand in hand, in
A parallel universe where
Fate is but a word
That is jotted in parchment paper, blotted
Out by dust,
Beautifully golden, long forgotten
All encompassing dust.
Gnawing at thoughts these tiny little creatures,
Scuttling all over, pricks sometimes
Those pointy meddling feet, numerous
In composition. Hurt
Comes at unexpected times.
Somewhere drips bleeding, and I
Think to myself that
People are meddlesome insects and I
Find solace only in my thoughts, so
Loyal and so intimate.
Walls have been built and I
Wouldn’t know where to begin to
Dismantle them, nor
If I would ever want to, the
Naive and trusting thing that I am, the
Humble clay walls that I’ve built,
For Citadels of pride.
Find my thoughts to be my friends and they
Keep me occupied enough, conversing
In varied tones, I
Live inside my head.
Oh God! The residual love stings
Like glass splinters in the head, the pain
Lingers, the dolor
Of fading affection is
Bitter sweet, you cannot but weep
From exhaustion, tell yourself
It will all be over soon, but will it
Drown itself in the bog of indifference
That easily, while everything else
Crashes and burns, surrounds you
With throttling smoke?
Love fades, hang on
To its flimsy parting robes, leaving
Deep gashes on your wrists.
Heart juice flowing from the eyes, wringed
From the insides, writhing
And coiling like a beheaded serpent
To recuperate beheaded emotions.
Blood gasps for air
Asyphyxiating, masochistic perhaps
As one gleans relief from
These painful drops…..