Where signs of tomorrow
Seem to tango with the ghost of yesterday.
Breathing
A task for kings and queens.
I!
Being a mere servant
Sipping on imagination
To un-pair these parallel unending thoughts
Where dreams hang upon.
For once,
The pen was the story
Now a demon that hovers
As fear inks the tale
Imprinted on canvasbacks
Where battles of its memorability
Makes a buffoon out of my breath.
Dancing on public tapestry
Where notions,
Dress with knives
And to live:
Is a personal mercy plea
Shrouded in eyes with voices
Loud in their awakening.
