Greyscale
There was a house
Devoid of colors
Nestled in the black bushes
That had carbon sooted leaves
Monochromatic madness.
Limerence lurked among them
A familiar oldie plays
diffusing homesick melodies for a bait
Among impulsive crackles
There he is again
My faceless bloke
The star of my fever dreams
A pleasant recurrence at this point.
Tweaking a transistor radio
He lounged in his bed
Unemployed on a lazy noon
I peer into the window
Eyeing his lungi folds
Oh those Madras checks!
What I’d give to break in
And have a sweaty summer encounter
Nope! I have to go.
Can’t feed these thirsty flames
They’ll devour my moral compass
And paint my name
In strokes of shame
A vibrant world awaits
There shrinks its portal to reality
Dreams are dead there
But that’s where I deserve to be
With reluctance I return
Exiting my black velvet realm
An abstract wish.
A silly desire.
This whole escapade
Will soon drain
Into the crevices of my consciousness
It’s alright.
At least I felt something
A whisper of lust
No, No, joy maybe.
That sounds allowable .
I’ll live with it
For now.
poem and image by,
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