His skin unwrinkled, youth's tightening grasp but that mind of his has aged too far for boatman he is, yet no boat he has with life for hire on river boats, fishing his way to day's stomach full until it sinks, new search begins his pages of life, just sinking boats where he stands on one, till submersion then jumps to next, yes, some holes it has, thus too will sink, someday's setting sun, such story's told, while he jumps on from boat to boat, only clothes on back nothing more he carries, well he knows? with one such boat, that he'll sink too? below a river where no bodies float? Yes, since birth on a sinking boat he knows, neither boats nor he, the river's the master, so it shall have one day, his weary corpse, in sinking rest.
Holographic distortions of buzzing no - signal TV screens the windows and balconies of far and near hauntings seem, his burning cigarette slowly lets out smoke, weird mix of smog and neon lights diffused the air and his images as he sees — in the few stars that still shine before they distort in limbo blurrs of holograms, his conscious superficiality in that moment, that midnight smoke around drizzles of chilling gray snowflakes, does it rain? a light 2 AM rain? on the hazy gray — bluish sparks of old signboards, now flickering still while an empty swing in an empty park still oscillates, until that image too distorts, in quantifiable reality, but all of this, surrounded by strife - torn neon souls while momentary constants blink, blinks that bad - season flower is it hologram too? his nose does not know the feeling anymore no binary fragrance it is, exotic or amniotic perhaps? perhaps a beginning, that bad - season flower, newish - black in that rainy, snowy, grayey fall of 2AM drizzle on burning cigarettes.
What have you become, Every morning is filled with bloodied headlines Each day the opposite gender is harassed Anguished population rejecting spectral genders Killing those who fall out of their bipolar world Innocence is raped so casually now Like it was meant to happen. Serial killers are bred Surviving on the narcissistic ideologies. Voices are silenced or even muted Patheticness is what prevailing. This ain't a fictional rhyme Its the bitter reality, Try to observe it and you might hear the Oppressed lamenting in loneliness Asking you, What was this world supposed to be And what had it became ?
In the infinite Sea of thoughts My mind gets lost Tormented by bad memories It cries ,and it begs you, for some clarity. The lighthouse of hope seems to be burnt By the fires of those Who forsake themselves long ago. And my mind wanders, in the mist of ignorance Craving for even a flicker of identity. It tries to embrace the darkness within But ends up getting consumed by the same. Save it before its too late Before its turns wicked And start contorting the strings of reality And fulfilling the oath of vengeance It took the day it drowned in anonymity. My minds is a lost sailor Be its lighthouse. -ayush_07