Monday, January 8, 2018

Dust


Embracing the cold flaked winds, winged I fly away,

Embalmed hidden corners pretty, I don’t even sway.


Innumerable count of I in number,

Men at aisle see no control and murmur.


In solitary pleasure when I dwell,

Hostile eyes search for me till they swell.


Present in fragment fragrance that you smell,

Sudden drip of unconcerned heights, I rather fell.


Lying on Ashes on man burnt to death,

Cruel handshakes with the rumble and dearth.


Seizing inches of itch on your skin,

Drooling places where you have never been.


Mugged into any of the desired forms,

 Wander away in excess to break all norms.


Walk into lanes where there is no path,

More you kick, I shall rise in wrath.


Delve deeper into the thicker grounds,

Apex, fragile over the mountains.


Bother not what I consist of,

Wish not what makes me tough.


Stirred into flow of lucid waters,

Wrecked with earthworms that no one bothers.



In all will you shall try, I cannot be crushed,

Fast, steady, however, you seem rushed.


Dear men, you think I am yet another lie,

Truth be told, let me enter your eye.

At 35 - Replying to a post from 10 years ago

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