its a dull and gloomy friday evening,
the sky is grey above and the clouds are brewing along,
with winds blowing slightly harder.
With lovely undulating pony tailed brown hairs, fair face,
dressed in a tight tee and jacket ,
she is quickly getting down the stairs with a tired head.
Seems like she is slightly out of sorts, her dull face
Suggests her inner tiredness, perhaps the recent lack of her beau’s
connection could be the reason indeed, not a single call
in a fortnight’s time, no messages nor pokes or chats.
She is moving swiftly by the trees
unusually noticing its close line up
and the dark black barks so hard, so ridged,
standing tall alongside in this hazy dusk,
in her way to parking lot to catch up another mate,
and get a drive back home or might even think about a pub around.
Stuck in the midway by something, startled a bit
and taking a couple of quicker strides,
she looks harder at that black car
to get a clearer sight and ends up slowing down
getting hold of a tree’s bark.
trapped by the mood’s pathos may be,
as she sees her beau pulling in another girl
kissing by the window, she gets down slowly
by the tree and sits there leaning on the bark
preoccupied with all tangled thoughts inside.
She is muddled inside with a unclear mind
and mildly creeping in pangs of void,
that seems to hauntingly slither her insides
slow and quiet.
it dwelves in her insides like the thin crawling
worms of voidic black that might
seem to subtly seize her whole,
as the claws of octopus which could
swiftly strech it arm to clench and grasp,
clasping it in no time all of a sudden,
spreading its worms of void all around
creeping and crawling.
She is equally taken in by the mood’s pathos,
swinging in mildly, pulling her low and dull,
while trying to reflect her birdie blues.
Its is dark all around and the place is
almost deserted with only her
musing by the tree and sulking under it,
and none else to be seen in the sight around.
a muse of a lone lady, sad and dull,
as she tries to gather herself
out of her mood’s blue hues.
Being haunted by the pathos and pangs,
she is almost hovering around in the rain literally,
lost in her blues, mired by her thoughts
and creeping in fear,
along with the mundane’s weariness.
She reaches her apartment late and feels like
her drive back home has taken thrice its usual time
while dragging her ride so slow in lapse,
over and over in the whirls of turns around the blocks,
spinning and spinning in whirls and turns of daze,
stretching her ride in her mind’s maze,
inside her intoxicated sulking mind
inside her spinning head,
post their stop by in a local pub and
owing to the vodka shots’ aftermath.
She stands in front of her room’s mirror
Keeping herself apathetic to her pathos,
under the flickering light that is yet to be replaced,
its light its dark in a flash, its light its dark,
its light, its dark it flickers sporadically,
she observes herself so indifferently.
She tries to pour another shot of vodka
from the bottle of absolut in her table,
but ends up breaking the glass dropping it down.
She takes a shot directly from the bottle.
on a spinning high she is,
stoned and apathetic.
reluctantly she moves to the balcony
to get some different air,
to get some other feeling,
to get some different light,
to get some other noise or blare to the least.
Standing in the balcony,
She gets that different feeling
Of the open outside.
Sees all the lights from the
road’s cabs and vehicles,
the beam and the glare.
Slowly closing her eyes
hears its sound, its noise
and the blare.
She feels the outside air.
She feels the outside.
Its wee hours of the midnight,
Thirty passed two.
She is still awake lying in the floor,
hazy and high,
as another shot of vodka gets in.
her mobile plays charlie’s,
we don’t talk anymore.
intoxication is helping her in keeping herself off
from the present pangs and pathos.
the stoned she feels the silence of the night
standing in the terrace floor,
while her inside space’s light
still goes on and off flickering,
light and dark, flashing on and off.