Where I live, alone
Like the quiet li'l person, I am
It's a dumb, blind and deaf spot
My holy chunk of heaven
Within ladles and ladles of silence
About the old witch
Who slept serenely in her palace
And her life lay within the
Box inside the box inside the box
Seven such boxes
My cocoon is the smallest of all those boxes
That I've always longed to be
Forever, and ever
Probably, yes, sure, why not
The air doesn't even move much
Except fragrances that I sometimes wish to capture
And there's no noise at all, at all
It's dimly lit, it's always dusk, in here
They leave only memories behind
Their palm prints
Names scribbled in archaic fonts
But nobody stays long enough
And it's good that way, too
Coated in the art I've treasured
And some that I've created
Even as I age, and my wrinkles come
My cocoon stays as it is
Like the spring of mindless youth.
Else why do I feel the way I feel.
Wherein time ticks in a different fashion.
It's a catastrophe in this world, may be.
Too much for a mortal to handle.
And so many smokes needed, there by.
Now that everything has come to nothing. Zilch.
I remember you.
And if not often,
It would be wrong to say
I don't think of you at all.
On nights of impending gloom
When the air is chilly
When I have just heard some good music
Or re-read an old poem I wrote, years ago
My mind distinctly goes back to you
And our December
The December, we found everything
And lost everything
After many years,
I don't remember your face of course
But your tantrums,
It's difficult to forget those
Yes, if it makes you any proud
I've moved on though
In some ways I've stayed too
In this chaos of poetic commotion
And lack of motion
And rampant illusion,
I remember you
And I can't help myself,
When I do.
You waltz into my memories
And waltz out, abandoning me moist,
Sometimes on the verge of nostalgia
Wondering what you've been up to
It's been quite long. This long
That you've been so M.I.A.