Into Oblivion

It was going all night –
I hoped for words to gobble themselves,
but then I was denied.
There are marks that put peace over the dead,
no snake could charm that girl,
still made it to the other side, the bar
and paid service to my ghoul in the cabinet,
who walks and talks as each moment rejects death,
to spoon fidelity out of sinners,
and sometimes to croon in ugly sewers

Still, night maps my heart,
so I keep an alibi of some screwer.
like whispers that burn
and time that guns,
a whole carton of minarets itch
to be buried with that girl,
(no doubt she loved to hear goods of gods)
so we parted, far from our sight,
we departed from each other
and I kept on rocking on the old chair

Sometimes I am by reflection
the morning moon, starring in its tornado,
so to fly out of this cocoon
is to light a fire
and when the music is over
is to fly into that void
where the veil separates the stage and the stooge,
while all secrets are hunted,
placed in a heap at the hilltop,
for the Sun to rot into oblivion

 

© Prateek Joshi and WordPress, 2019
Image Source – http://www.narrativenortheast.com/?p=2888

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