Slipping into Soberity

The drama unfolded
as the un-finished memories woke up.
Writer wears the robes of rejuvenation
resurrecting after the night sins.

He sidelines
the sweet aroma of wet earth and
the dreams, that ruined the buzz of silence.

The cellist of creativity
rushes into un-looked empty pages
to fan-out a poem from fear
while melting under a cold candy.

Thoughts
however
slipped away like a desert reptile
pulled down by the “g” force of neurons
or by salty emotions
into the pockets of a foreclosed denim jacket.

writer
still, stretches the defeat
and travels the highways of procrastinated paths
into the netherworld of monologues.
little did he know
the strength of ionic and the covalent bonds of
the null and void.

spiraling up again,
he strips the petals of pen
yet
the drowned poem
could not come out of bottomless buoyancy
despite
the cranking horn of lazy breath and the
formatting of un-saved memory files.

probably
it’s trapped in the tropospheric timidness
thus
I ended the show
as the cyclonic heart was tired of latent passivity
I retract
into
the condolence of pillows.


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