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, 2017-2018


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