Monotonous, a poem by Abhinav Aradhi

 

Monotonous, a poem by Abhinav Aradhi

Every breath a sigh,

Every blink waving a white flag.

All the signs of being comatose,

Yet perfectly capable of movement.

 

Stuck still in the sands of time,

Dragged under by hideous, psychotic beasts.

Something’s in the mind, something sinister.

Drowning in the granules of an hourglass’s rejects.

 

Good help is near impossible to find.

All they ever want to do is talk.

Blank eyes, vapid smiles, faux pas comforts.

The subtle scent of a terrible pity exuding from them.

 

A dreamer, not an achiever.

Caught up in the grandiose, in shining glitz.

Wants the world to be a stage,

For a mediocre daily drama.

 

Pretending to care, when it’s all bleak.

No outlook beyond this thin outcropping.

The horizon is a cruel vacuum, of insufferable gray.

The sun is suspended beyond murky space.

 

Twenty-four hours of tortuous patience.

The gold, it's there, behind all these fools.

All the glamorous love, it’s lurking behind the clock.

Sixteen years of tortuous patience, with infinity on the verge.

 

Quitting is easier said than done, as is continuing.

An uproar, contained in a whisper, emanates from the throat.

All the grief, all the terror, all the wicked thoughts,

They all come rearing their heads like devils.

 

Anxious about the future,

Worried about now.

Anxious about sixteen years of tortuous patience.

Pining for ever-changing boys. .

 

Diluted voices, attempting to aid.

A fool’s golden friends, attempting to persuade.

A gleaming sun, hiding behind murk.

The dawn of love, stuck behind the iron bars of eternity.

 

Comatose, in the fluid kind of way.

Ironic, in the deadbeat kind of way.

Amorphous to the tides of time,

Struggling beneath the sands.

 

It feels so scary, getting old.

It feels so scary, the lonely truth.

It feels so scary, the isolation.

It feels so scary, the monotone air.

 

It’s not enough, it never is.

Complaints fall on unwilling ears.

An infernal rage overtakes,

Energy courses through mistaken nerves.

 

As the sky pales on the edge of dawn,

Every monstrous day,

Life falls apart.

As it always, cruelly, does.