By Pritika Magima
Glistening
red liquid,
dancing
on the lips to once again,
make
me live.
Like
the wind,
Like
the whims of a teen.
The
clanking of glasses,
In
fake joy,
In
forced reassurance,
of
a brighter day tomorrow.
Where
sabotage isn’t the motto,
where
sweat is accounted for,
where
questions aren’t left to rot.
My
drunken stupor
and
the so called words of wisdom,
of
philosophy and future,
of
love and life lost,
pave
the way to the glories,
of
a world unknown to all.
Tomorrow
the world will glow,
in
submission
to
the synchronized behavior
of
work and play…
Tomorrow
will be another day.
Yet
tonight, is an escapade,
To
lands of leprechauns and gold like honey,
of
jovial nature and unnatural glee.
I
let the liquid dance on my tongue,
and
let rainbows decide my fate.
Of
mist and mint
Of
not an obligated journey,
Of
dreams and fantasies,
and
thus, a contempt of reality.
About: Poetic. Whimsical.
Freakishly attracted to romance novels these days.
