THIS SONG

this song is for the start
of not doing anything
and never sleeping never
thinking about papers or deadlines.

this song is for artistic afternoons
filled with caffeine and acrylic
colors wetting drawing paper
whetting creative appetite
igniting mad mental fireworks of concepts

this song is for those
once looking forward to
catholic trap festival
without spirituality just
the thrill of being lost, travelling
with peers and acquiantances
in the land of holy harvest

this song is for throwback
mornings, electronic music
air guitar with slick back hair
and wayfarers, black and white
pictures in a disco daze

this song is for the hourly
writerly doubts “what sentence
do i use?”; “what rhymes with
this word”? for looking up
fellow writers, feeling inadequately
like a loser, resorting to sensual
cavorting.

this song is for the lost humid air
blowing among the daisies and tulips
rose covered gown imagined, sweaty
musk proliferating frolicking
liberated in the middle of the highway, the only image
stuck in my head for days.

this song is for dwindling enthusiasm
because of serious political ambition
writing spontaneous prose to the
sound of goose stepping cadence
melody of the nation

this song is for al fresco
parties themed Woodstock
near the pool stealing sweets
in the company of Nabokov
and alcoholic drinks

this song is for silver car meetings
under the guise of journalistic
ambitions, fast food fumes spreading hanging
over abrupt outburst of hormones
-a most remorseful night!

most of all this song is about
longing and death.
read it.
again, tell me you don’t feel
the slow demise.

you should , you know
because there’s nothing
but fading away and getting lost
in the void
that’s present in this song.

 

 

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