And sMiles to go before I snore

By Pratima H

hEY Road, Where are you going?

Care to let me hop on?

I am clueless and dunno how to kill my time

I feel like a soap opera moron

The world is a blur and I feel like a lost ship

Not in a storm but no port to go either

Am staring at a blank page for hours now

Damn, I don’t feel like switching on the geyser

Have you ever been on a spiral that doesn’t go up or down

But runs in a loop like an idle rabbit

Life’s going the same way in some darn rut

Like a gravy train but I don’t wanna grab it

I just kicked a can on the grey tartar

And it made a noise I hate

Like the voices in my mind

Like the scratch of nails on a slate

Don’t you ever get bored of just going on and on

Even the stupid pit stops look the same

The fan rotating on the ceiling

Stray dogs without a name

A spoon of adventure would be a good idea

But I don’t mean floods, droughts or meteors

Can’t a Spiderman come flying

Or Superman doing some pizza chores

Bungee jumping is scary

And it would be another tick in the box

How do I stir this pot called life

It’s itching like chicken pox

They all serve the same Thai or Mexican, these chefs

The other ones make us believe their movie is a cut apart

But all stuff is recycled and dished out

And we keep dragging a lame shopping cart

I don’t even know what am I saying

I don’t even want to make sense

Coz it’s all fuzzy and ferrous now

I am groping for some future tense

Anticipation is half the drama

Do you dig it? Umm, like a prom dress

Should I ask someone to pinch me

Coz life can not be so friggin lifeless

People look like insipid robots

Living out of a virtual page’s pyre

Avatars and puppets of a beaten ramp

Strutting on like an anorexic tyre

Walking in a factory of spare parts

Watching ambitions rolling on assembly belts

Smelling the grease of inertia all around

The cookie no more crumbles, just melts

The X-Ray machines have conked out

No muscle, no real marrow left inside

Darwin must be turning in his grave

Evolution is now but a camel ride

The insane part is it’s hard to run away

Because every town stinks of concrete

Every countryside is impregnated

Even dreams are predictable and discreet

So if you are heading to another Black Hole

I would rather take a turn and stay muddy

But if you fancy wrestling a forest or something

Let’s get going, I have a full tank Buddy

P.S: No, I don't have a temperature. No crap of a movie either. Sometimes you know, letting the pen hold your fingers and just drifting, allowing the mind to be a vagabond....a flat tyre moment is not that bad after all.