Saturday, April 21, 2012

When The Pain

didn’t allow sleep, I
rolled this way          and that,
                searched for the most comfortable position

and dreamt those dreams which end on
an apostrophe to reality — a missed transit stop,
                lost time travel ticket.

Words don’t evolve from static situations —
they percolate until ready.
                Have been worn — at least a thousand times.

The description of you keeps changing,
 your bio constantly updating.
                Not a minute passes without deceit.

No comments: