beauty, creative-writing, dream, Fiction & Poetry, Life, Love, Poems, poetry

Repetition

It’s that time of the year again,
where the warm bottles of beer
and graveyards of cigarettes lie untouched,
the tongue savours the breeze of ice jewelled air.
The night turns into an abyss,
Cold slithers in as an irresistible prostitute,
the time decants drip by the drip,
stars swirl with ounces of battling warmth,
there is no hibernation, when you need it.
No pauses, when you press yourself of the edges of dissolution.
It’s pure madness, a cocktail of greed, desire, lust and lack of empathy.
The graveyard is lit, the warm river flows to my heart,
Another blackout. Another hangover,
A slick smile at the mirror.
A cycle of no purposes, repeat.

– Shashank Bhardwaj

Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s