Sleeping with 206 bones, & waking up with 207 is such a man thing. Now I wonder how miraculous that is. Glad ' I am still a man, although my manhood seldom gets affected by few feminist traits. They say that God is a women, I often confine to thee as well. Now that leaves me with just one question? Although science insists that crying is natural, culture still sends messages that strong men don't cry. Does that makes me less macho & more effeminate! Why?
Eternal Sunshine Of A Spotless Mind - three days on a drunken sin, I woke up with thee walls around me ,yet so kind. Happy & grieved, deceived-relieved, perceived-revealed lost & found, I have seen the light, still I act so blind. No matter how petite or high they sound. Its nevertheless a rollercoaster ride, a merry go round.
I roll on to my bed at times, with a pillow hugging comfort to thee thoughtful rhymes. It gets darker, though this beam of light I see with a single drowsy eye, tells me it's time to get up & do the right. Have rolled down on the floor, yes true at times. Did anyone said' hungry? Yeah ' I do!, I am. I am just trying to eat & drink ,quenching thee, in between the naps & feeding these empty lines.
Nights are lonelier, only peaceful when I hear no dogs bark & cry, Evenings messier & so much dry, Noons are like feeding Spoons, day dooms, Days busy at bay. If I act nocturnal , its the best time to lay.
Somewhere between the wit full intellect in my desperate attempts, frustrated lust, to thee I often fall prey. Craving still like a little boy who wants a toy to play, sand houses & castles still exist if you really dig harder any day. ,keeping aside the chaos'ed nuances, I follow my heart, less pretentious. I still have to learn to be a perfectionist trying to aim my targeted dart. Its always been a lonelier heart, no friends to play , no one near to be apart.
I had lately led the laziness creep in, & now its difficult trying not let thy seduce me. Though I try not to burn my self on calories & still wish the leanest - I must be.
I no longer can wear my deceased father"s gown, hope he does not look at thee with a saddest frown.I never understood mom's taunted norms. I guess it was then that It all sounded gibberish noun. hope she rests in peace. but now I am verbally sound, muted at times, sober & down. I have matured myself to a clever verby derby, & now my tamed imaginary horses take me high' sigh! I've got stuck on thee, these imaginary wings so curvy.
Things of the past, the frowns and the drowns, the red nosed clowns, shelves with dust & spider webs, money &;the debts, lizards hunting while they rest, playful rats, sinful cats, rich , poor, ordinary foolish men, women, brats, from illusionary runways to the buckled straps, that tie me down to the holiest craps. Midlife crisis, that rolls me to dices, alerts & signals and there warnings best sighted. I am hiding in my cocooned nest. Sunshine & twinkles in there own bloomy fest. shades of grey with hinted hues, difficult to digest. holistic murmurs enchanted to the core, here I tell you my real, reel & superficial folklore. I thought! I became a saint, but they still call me a whore. Sweet, peppery, salty - I am - a little soar.
With what ever suffices me now, no matter how, I try to be as cheerful as I could be, I try to make the most if it ,as humble as I should be.
Happened to have already lived my life with petite things & people that sufficed me. I love thee, & thy loves me back(those are the things inside me). Limited to my choicest of taste bud curiosities, I anguish thee. I surrender to thy, who surrenders to me. Strange' yet true! 'Love changes everything' it might be you, it might be me. - Anonymous