fettered freedom

the mind -

a scoop of rainbow

in the summer sky,

the softness of the salt

in a teardrop,

the choked voice

in a suffocated throat,

the elixir off the fountain

in the forbidden terrain of innocence.

the mind -

the wings of a unicorn

the golden glint in the eye of the dragon

the darkness of the dungeon of death

the black grey silver of life

the only open window

the only locked door

the only prison

the only cascading river

... the mind

blistered

haze in perpetuity

inebriation to be forgiven

it's the state of sanity

deserving persecution

incantations galore

repeating the repetition

momentlessness

nonetheless survival

survival of the fittest?

no oppurtunity but that

suspended in a second

a second in a second

time captured by time

these are walled

by transparent walls

merciless walls

hope will linger

be the flame

on the dying waxed wick

mirage of choice

breathless illusions

hallucinations illusions

fingers spinning

webs of complacency

a series

a circle

loops within looops within loops...

...haze...

The senses need to be numbed.

Does it happen to you?

You did everything that you do everyday.

You even interacted with people.

Laughed, felt irritated, got angry, laughed some more.

Yet, at the end of a few days...

You just remember vignettes off the past few days...

Disjointed, without any sequence or chronology to them

Like in a dream...

Like the frames of postmodern cinema...

Like the last few days were for me...

Maybe the overworked senses protested and went numb on their own.

paintbrush :)

Poetry

Not from labour does it peek,
The rhythm of an uncouth me
Within a me.
It would be simpler if ink could gallop
Not without reigns.
Yet it escapes.
The black sense of the floating black letters
Resist the fetters resist a rhyme
Reading the beyond, yearning to meet.
Clandestine – that’s what it is.
The river is constant
About all but one.
Diffident of constancy
Seeking as it flows.

Figment

Deception of the mind,
Or a silhouette escaping the shadow?
Language untraceable,
Fire of a fluid frame,
Waiting for the raindrop,
To capture an eternity.

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
Speaketh she no more
Just the silent lust.
Fantasies fables folklore,
All they rust.

The voice of the nothing
Aching to speak,
Namelessness of the pain --
Invisible abyss.
I – no voice but just the I.