Chasing the Noir

She sips her frothless coffee,
Sitting alone outside the cafe,
Delicate her actions,
Lest they perturb her train of thought.
She dwells furtively,
On the meaningless mirages,
Her life seems filled with.
Her answers have no questions.
Or perhaps, she lacks courage to find
The right words to question her inner demon.
Twilight sees the hurried footsteps
Rush by her,
In their efforts to reach the shelter of home.
Mundane - she scorns with disdain.
What is home?
What is anything?
The abstract absurdity of it all,
Sinks inside- sedimenting and rotting within.
Her fight for truth and normalcy,
Wages a silent painful war inside.
Id pit against Ego-
As she meanders,
Chasing the Noir.
Outside her mental  fences,
Stand the people who love her,
But somewhere,
Her twisted mind ,
Questions their intentions.
Judgemental of motives.
Guarded strong,
Her defenses,
Search for a loophole,
Or a catch to peg her negation on.
Far away are those,
Who must remain peripheral to vision.
But in them she finds her meaninglessness more meaningful-
Than ever before.
She wants none to cross over and reach her core.
So she runs away from the only one,
Who chases her,
For he sees right through her facade,
And yet -
Still loves her albeit.
But - what is love?
What is anything?
She sighs- unhappy her childish mind.
For she cannot make anyone understand.
Her 'who' has translated into a 'what',
As she struggles to give her id an identity.
The black coffee-cold now-
Stares back at her balefully-
For it too, cannot furnish her reasons enough,
Of her plight.
She stirs it,
Wishing it to be a crystal ball,
That would frame the cobwebs of her mind-
To a rigid form.
She loves him too,
Or hopes she does.
For he is the one,
She  likes running to,
Chasing the Noir-
When nothing seems right anymore-
Or then again,
What is right after all?

Unhinge

There seems to be something to seek,
Not sure of what to search for.
Some answers evade,
Of questions unframed.
A break from monotony- mutiny?
To unhinge.
An irrepressible desire,
To be closer to the roots-
In touch with nature and natural.
Succumbing to the wealth and warmth
Of human bondage-
In contact with freedom -
And all the 'beams' it may espouse.
Harmonize inner being,
Find a core - a self.
Re-gain a depth,
Afresh- refreshed.
Is it clarity or catharsis?
Or synthesis in symbiosis?
Strange the twists of irony-
As it unfolds its manifolds.
A 'knight' shining like a surprising beacon,
To illumine a certain path of life.
Subtly, unknowingly highlighting,
A course of action.
Peace, in solitude,
Gravity in retrospection.
Mistakes seem heavy-
Not a burden anymore.
To be kept away,
Locked in private shelves,
Away from prying wonders-
Never deleted,
But fodder to be ruminated on.
Random, generates more concretes,
Than any planned structure.
Some more time then,
To crawl out of the shell.
To give the voice,
The much needed choice.
Break free, from all that constricts-
To think and feel again.