Alone in the past

It’s like going back in time

To the places you’ve been before

But this time they are bereft of people

Empty of action

Silent in words

And there I see the ghosts of our past

Walking down the cobbled alleys

I see them smiling, fighting, eating, drinking

Just walking….walking

It’s a yellow town

And a white lie

It’s a rocky coast

And a sea with salt from my eyes

It was the shortest of lives

And the deepest of all

****

 

To this place I will return

Without choice or effort

It’s here that I saw beyond myself

And fell into the abyss that you seem now

 

I might have clambered up the slippery walls

Into what the world believes is real. Practical.

But.

My soul wanders the yellow town

Alone in the past.

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We

While the world assumes its focal point to be someplace,

The real events unfurl elsewhere

In the peripheries of eyes, just round the corners

Pitched battles over pitchfork issues

Come to a close when the Sun’s gone behind the lantana bushes

To scorch ground and sinews on the otherside of an ending.

 

We think it’s over, when it hasn’t even begun;

We think we are dead, when we haven’t even been concieved;

We fear we are losing, when they haven’t even begun taunting;

We decide we are the ones moving, when the Earth turns one last time.

Undecided end

It was a bad dream.
Disrupted stasis,
A whirlwind tousling hair;
And underneath a neon glare
She cast shadows around.
Yet they weren’t hers…

Then, the nooses slithered unto her,
Tying knots so intimate.
She prayed for power;
For deliverance.
And heeded, her prayers bestowed
Gargantuan scissors
In place of her feeble hands.

They ate away at the folds
Each knot followed,
Famishing her; satiating the
Hands so giant.
Lighter than ever, she felt
Lesser knots tying her down
To this earthly presence
Of undecided end.

To the remaining knots
She screamed,
‘You shall be undone too…
I shall taste freedom,
I shall die’

Not Even You

Nobody would believe my

Dearth of brilliance

Nobody would know my

Set, practiced lines

Nobody would feel my

Lack of inspiration

Nobody would hear me swear

In filthy bursts

Nobody. Not even you.

With Nobody

When all you ever did

Was hold conversations in your head.

Conversations, which if heard outside,

Can leave you nobody

To converse with.