A list of imagination, impossibilities, reverence I had made

Until dust had consumed it under my bed

turning my conscience a far gone mirage

Until my tired eyes tried to make sense of it still

My weighty eyes drag on them, my spines they chill

A list that screamed positivity, I chanced upon

The first; achieve optimal mental health

A flurry of hallucinations and anxiety grips me still

One of the voices whisper “Good job, well done until”

it all flashed in front of my eyes, the ending not a happy one

But I thought it would suffice.

I die. Life got me still.

A list that told of lofty lies I built for myself

The fourth; smoke words every day

A haze full of intoxication seeps through my veins

The laughter it rains, the dreams they just drain

But I thought for a while, wasn’t it words not weed

Wasn’t I supposed to plant seeds, not concede

To the paralysis of my thoughts.

I die. Life got me still.

A list that sprinkled nothing but bad luck

The seventh; stay alive

The lucky seventh they say, it has its own way

A beautiful meditation on life, an easy ride they say

With every breath, it feels like I weigh more

My life, a performance of a catastrophe

But still I perform, is it just good luck or good form?

I live. Luck got me still.

– Rahul Gaur

Share this: Tweet



WhatsApp

Email



Like this: Like Loading...