My pills remember me from the last year;
they have to – to do away with lost memories.
In the mirrors of my mires it seeds deep
Lest they lose with their taste a bitter hope
‘Twas too good to teeth and try on trolls’ premise
Uproar seems a little fur coated in my memories –
if at all I figure out mine,
my mind being a minefield.
Yoodles are an altogether different game
They don’t frame fame for no reason at all
Though I skim seasons out of my seams
I still figure fist in a feast to list my ills
Icky idle thief tames my mirth’s apology too wildean
I have slipped in apostrophes a little edgy, oft loosely
Hence the pauses don’t come too but with relief
They reveal nothing. To hide has been my seeking.
© Prateek Joshi and WordPress, 2018
Image – Neanderthal Cave Art