"Applaud"

  To the stage gentlemen,
 yet the daylight moon
   shifts unnoticed
 
  to the rift in her tears
your hands meet to fill,yet
   midnight awaits each of you

  to the grand fall
 off the stage,only regardlessly
  consumed as disaster

  to the slow soundly admittance
 of the barbarian,dressed
   casually as you

  to the lone peanut
sitting at the window grill,
 every little parable attached
 
  to the air in the room
 sodden with breath,multiplied
   only by its size
 
  to the shudder of a heel
stuck in the wooden floor,oh the
  terrible outcomes of reach
 
  to the teary eyed blonde
in the front row,a row for gems
   the heart shaped ones
 
  to the white smoke,rising gradually
befitting the organics
   of the human mind
 
  to the colourless bangles
   sparingly hung over the light bulbs
  popping into everyone's mind as red and blue

  to the anemic commotion
backstage,the whispers of god
   probably not

  to the man cowered
behind the upright paper trees,
  sweating his anonymity

  to the sombre decline
in passing the end,
  between your fingers

  to the curtains
as they fall,
  reminding you of being taken

  to the spreading chorus
of the chairs' yawn
 mindless tricks that wriggle the soul....

A Rainy day

Remember the day,do you?
when it rained
bankrupting your legs
   of their balance,
 the sewers cheered as
    hundreds of bottle caps
 fell through,the bottles
    long overused
      stood beside you
  echoing your voice
     
there were colourless impressions
  of those who passed ahead
 for a moment or two
    in the puddles
before they
    broke into laughter,
   widening as the drops
fell harder
 
    and
   for a breathless minute,
you thought
  there was no returning today
    from the brink

Asymmetric

All be it limited,i follow the sand wherever it goes.I'm a dying wave of bleeding limbs flowing in
from the cloud coated feet of the sky.My hands can only feel human heads,some of them with notoriously blowing peevishly warm air into my trousers.I would stand up and zip myself but the moon is a moth journeying between holes,to me they meet between my legs.A cluster of trees turned inside out have knives sticking out of them,their backs pounded with a lot more than just empty shells,lucky they are.

 I'm a miser i must admit.So all i do in situations like these is hold my head between my knees and pull the shovel on every instinct that may surface from beneath my feet.I'm a ballerina bouncing over the dead with a sense of mortality climbing up my legs.To me that is how art should be.The hand may rise exhuming bits and pieces of creation,but what follows is the wait to settle.That itself can spell doom,although doom is spelled in a fairly straightforward way.I'm nobody to judge,atleast nothing other than the thoughts of the head hanging between my legs,not mine.

Sanctity of the machine

The terrible outcomes
  we wear,
 Reddened only for
   their lack of
     reason
     and
the blood we spit
 into our own machines

Sacred, yet spoken

The whole scribbling matter,I had nothing more to say to myself than i had to say to her.That in itself was more disappointing than the beguiling truth behind the withdrawal she led me into.A point between the recent past and today was where our defences should have met in argument.But we had thoroughly been at work,destroying each other's lives and unknowingly making it look simpler by the day.It is hard to accept diligence on part of another person when you are under the impression of being under an impression.What remained ineffaceably constant was the natural winding down of the clock everyday,down to the moment where the kiss goodnight could only leave us for saving.It was quite like holding that empty bottle jar quietly over a ledge in the quiet of the night,waiting for it to not fill with your own personal cause.