Estranged
Every brick in the cell has a date and a time,
Ingrained in a blood red script;
Countdown markers of a history of mine,
Symbols of pain in a crypt.
I came and I saw, or the other way round,
Conquered then paled like a ghost;
What becomes in the end is a hole in the ground,
Crematorium dreams of burned toast.
At some point in a phase words engender no good,
Buttoning lips in a daze;
With a heart on a stick pumping misunderstood,
Love is a loathsome malaise.
If I hunch in a crowd and melt in the throng,
Will no one perceive I am there?
From nothing to nowhere I pinwheel along
Even I cannot tell if I care.
Feelings devolve in a spiralling drag,
Numbness pervades all the while,
The cats are estranged and let out of the bag
And smiling a bittersweet smile.
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