Blur Behind the Blues


Once the day gets old, I hold myself dear so I don’t pale

Night gives wings to wigs of old and wits of young

But it carries me to the underworld

And I grow cold, my feet to the ground; the beauty beholds



I’ve been beneath the seven seas covered in sins since seven weeks

With the morning spare, evening a little blue, night in pursuit

I’ve been breathing, but the breath loses its cool

As I break away from the looming gloom, stumble over a mourning fool



It’s daytime now and the hour is full with gnomes who scurry

I relent at the waking hour, this minute is too steady

I jar the bell of sour seconds

I need a moment to redefine memory



A word exists everyday to hold me still as I long to leave

Each day becomes an attire that wears me

And I become a mannequin stalling my insanity

At the backdoor of stage, staring at the act, figuring out my name, my meaning


© Prateek Joshi and WordPress, 2017


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