Wednesday, January 25, 2012


This tawdry life is a chore
but you my friend,
whose renegade ways
and light-winged mind
flit through as if a butterfly,
you ease this embalming bore.

It does not matter if half in love
I skitter the edges of madness,
just so I could be amused
tossed away and abused
for I'd rather be seduced,
my idle vigour educed.

These lines are mirthless
if you care to ponder,
just so for I am listless
with naught to bother.
So carry on dancing
leave me be, espying.

Note: I shouldn't allow myself to draw parallels between fantasy & reality. These two do not mix. Alas my muse care not for such trivialities. Everything blends into a hue of otherliness. I ought to stop caring.

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