Tired of your games..

The moon is a pan of flimsy tin
The sun a mere braggart
The evening skies are shameless
Flaunting their russet skins

You love burying yourself
In abysses of the past.

Loud trumpet calls, parades
And red banners you detest
Secrets are your retreat
In midnight sleep
You whisper words of comfort
Grasping my fingers tight.

Sometimes I could
Slit your emptiness with a knife
Wanderer Conman
Dreamless sleeper
A violence in me quivers
To conquer your silence.

Pretender Liar
Plunderer of loneliness
Drag those heavy caskets of kisses
Hidden in your cave of solitude
And plod homeward soon..
Let my remnants
Haunt your green box..

14 thoughts on “Tired of your games..

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s