Betting Odd Off a Pawned Habit

In the acre land free of any soot
In a car moist with sweat and soft moans
Trying to forget my coasters calling from home

Within my scare, I jet out long lags
Off sweet monsters who told me to wait
The delicacies of the previous night herald

Alt-screams from the challaned kalashnikovs hover a bit
A crash of sundae holding my soul slips
A burial must wait but the dead are gone long

I strip off my seat of cotton candy
The tears reminding me of my birth are uneasy
I trip into a vacancy while my beats keep burdening

Before long I had attired a silver tongue
It burned a hole in Casper’s Sun
As he stood holding his placard for me to stop

Likely all virtues have been coloured violet
But violent seizures have seized a couple of violins
On the strings are running arteries let off blood of my long life – one note a time.

 

© Prateek Joshi and WordPress, 2017

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