Disclaimer: The following lines have been written by a highly unprofessional man. The lines you see are the result of cold medicine and tomato ketchup with a dash of grape Juice. Please do not write these at home!
Searching for gospels through the looking glass,
I’m waiting for miracles as I see my life flash.
This city, my Vaudeville, lost among the hum of generators,
leaves me staring at, looking at, empty buildings and
getting lost in the meticulous fluid of my being.
The comic inside me, who finds humour only in butter chicken,
now shouts out for a bar setting for once!
The unabbreviated neon lights on damaged roads
hypnotise the keyboard banging chimp inside my soul.
My brain aches from all the espresso thoughts,
and my ceiling puts a poker face as I stare at it in boxer shorts.
My prayers to God are only for ungodly things
(none of which involve an angel with wings.)
As i get warped into the fourth dimension of traffic
social media posts seem disturbingly terrific.
Viral fevers and chicken cravings,
back pains and ice cream with chocolate shavings
mould my world and cook a tune
as a thousand cello strings permeate my soul.