Melancholic of the monsoon

 

Sluggish mornings,

Smell of fungus

in my slippery doorsteps,

Elongated bedtimes,

Slacking routines,

Hearing nothing ;but symphonies,

4 walls, headphones as my roomies,

Safeguarding books

And Reading them to cats 

To which they nods,

But silence alone growls.

Instant noodles,

And concurrent doodles;

Fills stomach and minds.

 

 

Wind blows

 And Power goes,

 everything this modern 

Entrainment has to offer follows,

Life slows,

Gazing through windows;

With something more than my earnings;

Oh it's just my yearnings.

Could go for outings,

If it wasn't for these lethargies;

Worn out clothings

And clownery trophies ,

With mid-day coffees.

 

 

Could draw out my playthings,

And spread out my wings,

Only if it's a fairytale for kids.

But it's plain typewriter writs;

Monochromatic colourings,

Bluish brown evenings, 

Tasting confectioneries 

With stuffings,

Of Unexplainable feelings,

Unreasonable requestings,

Unfathomable expectations,

Unrecognized emotions,

Unexpected circumstances,

Unreliable trusts,

Underachieved Frustrations,

Undesirable shortcomings,

Unexplored talents,

Unspoken phrases,

Unreplied texts,

Blaming nothing but fates,

With toppings of vexations,

Ready burst into vapors

 from my vein linings;

 Hands to my head’s as

 it's supportings,

Few brain parts already starts,

cloggings;

Started Staring at the false ceilings,

While Imagining callings,

Doors too got their fattenings,

As moisture as their pastries

And here I am leaning against all reasonings,

Will be underweight in a few hours ;

Just as in my calculations.

 

 

clouds going rampagings,

 free showerings outsides,

Happy People vloggings;

Staying dry and healthy inside my lodgings,

After gulping my longings;

But drowsiness had already gotten the best of my belongings,

Like to sleep without any dreams.

To this lad of tasteless ,

Walking might feel dangerous,

As something bottled up

 would rain down

And flood

Him in tears

Or any other rivers,

Anything except the sewers.

 

 

My Loose screws; 

repaired with pliers,

With all those tremors,

Kicked open gates,

With doubts in pockets

And courage as kerchiefs;

Here I am moving without a umbrella or coverings,

With nothing but ease,

Sense of pain suddenly cease,

When will you come again?

Won't I be able to see you once again?

My writings will go in vain;

I don't have enough space,

To suffice your permanent grace,

So do only occasionally visit me,please 

My monsoon breeze,

Or else I would obsess

And imprint you in my mind's palace,

Just to make some bad poetries.

So do drizzle some time

on my desktop

Rather than on my heart's 

  door knob.