❝I would rather die of passion than boredom.❞
— Van Gogh
• • •
i'm the bright city lights, situated in random pathways
driving in reverse, hitting cheap-liquor shops every day
when the glass sinks too deep, should i separate the blood from wine?
my only escape is dissolving in this red-moon shine
i'm walking on quicksand, sinking in random warlands
breaking into fragments, raising snakes in my garland
my pearl-tears, fractured and feeble, are of pure brutality
every second, i'm facing a dead-end of the mundane reality
i'm counting the broken barricades in random sequences
lamenting for silent flames, for the shunned consequences
breathing in gunpowder, i'm swallowing bullet-like profanities
crashing into the street lamps, joining the ghosts of the thirties
i'm reciting the hymns, breaking the curse with random symmetries
driving on stranded lanes that i swore i'd never add to my priorities
the black ink on my hands, the sweet poison on my tongue
together building an isolated song that should never be sung
i'm connecting the dots, losing my sanity on random u-turns
your lullabies haunt like shadows in my face, scratching my burns
the broken hinges and the creaking noises stain the voiceless tragedy
and in the shrines of metaphors, i discover the ultimate remedy
i'm a midnight rainstorm, a player in a game of random murders
struggling to find the exact words from the concealed murmurs
wreckage of monuments shape my blurred edges into crimson lines
and i drive straight into the void of random clusters of crimes
• • •
with time, every random crime or suffering creates a pattern. have you noticed yours?
with tonnes of love,
SweetSimu.