Sunday, October 6, 2013

Opium




The burden of dreams,
Seems like an immovable weight,
Settled on your back-
To curb all your way forward.
You see them shelling off,
One by one-
Falling off your own sand castles,
Into pits and dunes unseen.
You watch the downfall,
Passively-
As there isn't much to emote on.
The dead weight,
Leaves no peace.
It shreds to pieces-
All happiness too.
Bitter and burnt,
The stain of Karma,
Invades olfactory senses.
The jagged ends of the burnt crystals,
Settled like sediments atop surfaces-
Now, prick as the cuts bleed.
Indeed, given the anti-social stance,
You feel pity for those who wish to reach out.
Condescending too-
As you remain ingrained and buried in your own iron shell.
Yet you watch it all-
All efforts at cheer,
All actions of trying to unchain and un-shackle-
Met only with a silent jeer.
No-one close enough-
Distance is what pacifies-
Time heals- but when remains the question?
Is it impatience marring conscience-
Then again, would it rightfully not be so too-
As any path ahead,
Seems darker- shrouded in mystery?
Pawn or puppet,
You refuse to dance or tag along,
While others reproduce spawns,
You opt for the Devil to slay your Nightingale.
Basically then, basic instincts,
Lay prostrate at odds with one another.
What you aspire for,
Is mocked at by reality alone.
Do you feel alone too?
The iron shell,
Prohibits a rational thought-
Yet by itself,
The structure offers a reliefs,
As it segues into a land of the solitary reaper.
Curiously you wonder,
At the lack of trials
Of any acts to inveigle joy-
But you scoff and scorn at your own pedantry-
When all lies pejorative-
To all that you hold dear;
It's all a story that ends with
Once upon a time.
Sunshine, could only impart the yellow hue-
Much earlier, to the immature shapeless mind.
Now, all efforts to seek warmth,
Seem vain-
As all mirth too seem to wane-
Instead of a smile,
You meet the serious eyes-
Hidden behind dark shades.
Transition & transformation
To translucence,
Is a constant and a conscious choice,
Towards convenience.
You form your own escape strategies,
From all the confusions-
That only serve to further torment-
And relish the lack of release.
Opium, is what the lackluster eyes thirst for-
To deaden senses


1 comment:

  1. this song eerily defines it ALL =

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=My2FRPA3Gf8

    ReplyDelete