When the Temperature Goes Down
Started out with the calendar’s first cold months, started a year with some new reservations.
Ending now with the last cold months, ending the year with some old sense of resignation.
I’ll be yelling out about my dreams and my peace; I’ll be yelling out that ‘I want it that way’,
But I’ll be bailing out on all my plans again, thinking about today turning into yesterday.
Don’t blame me for being a sloth,
For my cold mind producing these lazy thoughts.
Of course, this sweater weather will make me lazy,
When the lights and the nights are dim and hazy.
In a movie with cheap visual effects, I saw a fat anaconda wrapping its prey, taking its life minute by minute,
This blanket is making me snug, wrapping around like I’m a helpless slug. That anaconda, this blanket seems to mimic it.
So how can I fulfil my year end goals, as each page of the calendar unfolds, as I’m stuck in this blanket?
If my motivation was a prototype of the Titanic, this blanket would surely be the glacier that sank it.
I look outside at the winter sky of my city; it ain’t that bright and lively but it still looks pretty, clouds sketched and painted with wintry shades of grey.
I look outside at the cold streets, people walking with cold feet, finding it hard to breathe, wearing pollution masks cosplaying as a Jain monk/Batman’s Bane.
2 hours later, I’m still trapped in this anaconda, filled with heat of a hundred thermonuclear bombs,
I’m low now but still I pray to the high powers, that this winter, everyone gets a blanket to be warm, even the poor stray dogs.
Laziness and hopelessness, rigidity and frigidity take the best of me, as the temperature and the sun go down,
As Santa Claus comes around, as my college shuts down, as smoke and fog make a cold cocktail and engulf my Indian town.
Copyright © The Moustached Bard | Year Posted 2018
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