Sunday, April 10, 2011

Purple rustles of beautiful lies, another secret humming scarlet
The air heavy with thoughts of things unsaid, lurking buried deep inside
Merciless clouds of the dark blue night shrouds me in claustrophobia
And I wait for the rain, awake, agitated and sleep deprived....

Dirty moon flutters on the old white curtains
The moon light gnaws me as I watch the shadows flickering patterns
That are dreadfully demonic, hammering with whispers that echoes the silence,
While I wait for the rain, stirred, twitchy and sleep deprived....

Creaks the rack while I take out the old albums
Tea coloured photographs.... I remember you called them sepia....
The green is gone; gold are the leaves, between the pages of the old blue diary
I turn the pages, while I wait for the rain, restless, frantic and sleep deprived....

The leaves between the dreamt have dried, but the memories still breathing
Pink ashes strewn on the worn out carpet like life misplaced here and there
One Careless word sometimes outlays one whole carefully built world
Only to keep me waiting for the rain, troubled, tortured and sleep deprived....

They say if you recall someone from the heart, the person recalled comes for sure
Then why are you not here?
The layers still hazy, the rain never pours and the waiting never ends
I would always be lonely, abandoned, lost and sleep deprived....

1 comment:

  1. an excellent piece of modern art capturing the alienation & rootlessness of urban existence...
    -titash sen