DOOMED DREAMS(*^*%#**)

I say first things first

For even a zombie needs his life now

And over a dead man’s chest

I shirk my

Clandestine of affairs somehow….

To this day, the deadliest of my dream comes haunting me down

And I look over my shoulder

To search for an escape downtown…

The street under the bridge is filled with

Frightening looking things

For even my fleshy sunken face

Flinches in pain…

Tip-toed, I moved ahead a bit too farther

On the dark crap laden street

Washing my hands off my seedy past sheets...

The dimly-lit street was

Coarse but, just fine

Dead but, just alive

Roasted but, ever so raw

Rotten but, Yet so preserved

Zoning in and zoning out,

I looked for my henchmen behind

But turning back, I see nobody behind

For I took pride in my own false snide…

From better to bitter, my relationships seems to stale away in this horrendous dark night

For I see my demise no matter if it

Was just a chance ride….

I ask for you....Do you ask after me?

                              I ask for your hug

                             When you are not around

                              I ask for your arm around me

                              Just to feel the mystique touch of your presence

                              I ask for your forgiveness

                              Just to let you pierce through me

                              I ask for your love

                              So that I may dive deep in your eyes

                              I ask for a wink at me

                              To see just a tinge of playfulness in your mystical eyes

                              I ask for your smile

                              So as to make my day brightest of all

                              I ask for your gentle push

                              So as to hear the butterflies grooving in my belly

                              I ask for your companionship

                              Because I love it when you gently stroke my hair

                              All this while,

                              My quixotic heart has been asking after you…

                              It has become foible with time,

                              Chasing what many may call a utopian dream

                              But can I take this chance to ask you something?

                              When I ask for you

                              Do you ask after me?

I shall wait OR Shall i wait?

                       You ain’t right for me

                       But shall I wait to fall in love with you?

                       The flowers in my garden has not  blossomed in this month of spring
                       But shall I wait for a delivery of bouquet at my doorsteps?

                       The lampshade on my bedside table is not sufficiently lit

                       But shall I wait for the deep seated tunnel of darkness
                       Inside  me to explode?  

                       The claws of the vampire are not out yet

                       But shall I wait for him to have a luscious bite of me?

                       I have not yet been to an asylum yet

                       But shall I wait for the madness of my pride to burst out

                       open wide in public?

                       I have not been taken on a ride since a long long time

                       But shall I wait for the car in my garage to drive me over?

                       The hunk in the white tuxedo is smiling right at me

                       But shall I wait for him to make a pass at me?

                       I have always loved the smell of new books

                       But shall I wait for the books in my shelf to gather a handful

                       Of  dust?

                       I may have been outcasted by my community folks

                       But shall I wait for them to take a grounded stand against me?

                       Those cocky guys are bonding well and furtively forming

                       their very own ‘bro code’

                       But shall I wait for my girls to come up with

                       Something of a ‘sis code’?

                       The girl inside me is fidgety over her new look

                       But shall I wait for her fragility to backfire?

                       The gardener in my lawn savours his job a tad too much

                       But shall I wait for my eyes to see past the nauseated dust             

                       besieging him?