across the road, across the park
on a twin winding road... stands the lone traffic light
on green canopy, on concrete mast,
on vincent azzure-blue sky
run eight power lines... cutting through my sight
the criss cross of the window brass
the aghast, ajar openness of the windows
the small opening to the outside world
ushers in realization of pain in this heart so numb
i await in some sort mythical expectation
for deliverance, for my time to come
deliverance from this stagnant, dwindling and self consuming assumption
the red wall offers me the portal to transverse... this universe
colors seem so nubile and plastic, colors for want of courage
air seems to false, air for triggering a flap of the wings
the two holes of the maroon-power-coated vault,
two keys hang in there for want of will
my skill, my will, this thrill
pop a pill, all the pain it kills
© Copyright 2017 Balaji Iyer. All rights reserved.
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