New Year

The calendar’s changed,

When will life?

Why I wonder,

Is hope still alive?

The grey inside,

Has turned black,

Of time and thoughts,

I have lost track.

Insatiable, This thirst,

Will perhaps never die,

Downing drinks all night,

I wait for time to pass by.

Experiments with love,

Show no desired result,

The ones with lust,

Failed the worst.

Consumed by our own selves,

Sucked into the void of our lives,

The good times are gone,

Only darkness thrives.

Why pretend then,

Why to greet?

Fuck the new year,

Spare me the Bull shit.

Tiring games

The tunnel is long.

A shadow,
darker than the darkness,
Walks on.

He must return,
when he encounters the end.

It is not light that he seeks.

He is looking for a spark,
A long lost one,
Which he used to harbour.

Casual attempts in the enlightened world,
All futile.

It is in these dark alleys,
it must have been buried.

Hope dissipates, with every grain of sand that drips,
But he walks on.

If he fails, love shall conquer,
the distances that were supposed to keep it alive.
Two old lovers, would become one.

Love would then choke upon itself,
And die a slow death.

Love is not meant to be realized,
It is best left to imagination.

The darkness, like a restless woman,
Schemes for the union.
Unaware of realities of the world.

He must resist temptation.
The union must be the last resort.

For the sake of love,
With different perspectives,
Both of them seek.

The darkness- a perfect scheme,
He- the spark.

The game is on.