Foxes ran over people on roads, driving unsafely,
“Birds! Please, eat the bread crumbs before some way finds me!”,
my rapidly sifting sentimentalities would’ve had their way,
But the rabbit fell, not into a hole but a comma, under that darned tree!
It clogged its spree, marred its glee,
Branches reached out and shaped the word “plea”.
“Oh that dude? Do worry, he’s not dead,
he just has a burst bubble for a head,
a brain pregnant with doodled lead,
fighting with the slumbering afternoon bed,
lines strangle themselves into words he never read,
beyond a stopping sign where they snobbishly tread.”
The lightning crackled sharply last night,
it sounded like your book page caught in a gale,
Like ivy, flowers crawled up the metal chair,
on which sits throned the fox without bail.
Is the tea stale? no?
Why then you so pale?
Ahh, a lost trail.
Well, all hail!
Wasn’t that what we always wanted!
Wasn’t your fear of being figured out what got you haunted?
Using your blindfold, your compass you pestered and taunted.
Every turn in your road made you realize it wasn’t you but the path that jaunted.
Alongside every drifter’s swirling dust and idyllic maps never flaunted,
There’s the unknown, go get it, you know you want it!
It’s weird… almost surreal…
But you know?
I’m just not, all that daunted?
What now? The hour’s black, Khokhas are all closed.
My friends they’re all with exams overdosed.
my face feels like a sandpaper growing thorns,
and all my poetry’s gone redundantly prosed.
The fox, the rabbit, both chase the bubble heads.
bobbing about a barely betrodden bazaar,
of bitch bravura, banal bashing, buffoon bidding.
The loneliest adventure I’ve had by far.
It’s all never going to come disentangled,
so why don’t you go do something worthwhile?
go get a fox, and a rabbit,
and make them screw each other’s smile.
But be broodingly observant,
notice their volatility all the while.
And when they’re both sitting,
discussing who of Waits and Bowie is weirder,
present them a cup of bile.
everything shall turn vile.
Only for as long as you don’t keep count,
there shall always be an extra mile.
So, sit back and let it begin, the trial!
“Try Again, Can’t find this file”?
Go to hell, Force Shutdown style!
PS. No matter what mountain shall against me lean,
I would still wish Sting didn’t have caffeine.