I'm a creature of the past.
I thrive on nostalgia.
Those little fragments of shattered symphony
And brass choruses yet to materialise
All touch up the disfugured constellation
That now adorns
Me.
I stroll aimless, through the bylanes of
Memories lightly tinted by
Juvenile antics and yellow shirts
And sunshine streaming through the gaps
Between curtains, framing gaps
Between my teeth.
It is never a happy onset, this muse.
For it is one trampolined by
One out of
Twisted escapism
And demented gloating.
The alluring drops of guilt and shame
That connect me to my ignorant, foreclosed childhood
Provide excellent fodder
For making me feel better
About my current
L
O S
T
Predicament.
What does that phase hold
that I so feverishly
want to revisit?
The lilting R.D. Burman overtones, perhaps.
Perhaps it is the equally attractive
Prospect of losing myself within them
Never to
Resurface.
Is it the happy relations
I cherished with my parents?
Is it the carefree, clueless climb
That attracts my unblinking fascination?
A climb that so hilariously was unknowing
Of the break in its wings and the shatter in its lilt
All that would befall its frivolous heart
In a solitary year,
Reducing it to a brooding heap of
Agony?
I'd always thought life would get better.
Hard, surely.
But I would pull through.
And now, I'm an apathetic wreck
Solemnly, deliberately,
Furiously
Wiping away at the slender differences
Between
The three tenses.
Trying to connect the tracks
In a circle.
And trying to fathom a pattern
That would lift me up and away,
Into the very seed of my adventure,
The very genesis of my being,
The very beginning of my journey-
And then self-destruct.
Losing all trace of existence, great or small,
Losing all chance of retread or forward movement,
So I,
Never experience the possibility
Of reaching this destination
Again.
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Poetry[On hold] Key: |Straight Brackets| - Poetry. \Tilted Brackets/ - Passionate, Vaguely Poetic Prose or Free Verse. ~Wave Brackets~ - Poetry specifically between 1 and 3 sentences in length. ☆☆ For everyone, Who finds, Not in a graveyard or cretamorium...
