Blur Behind the Blues

I.

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

II.

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

III.

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

IV.

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, 2017-2018

2 comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s