Of Slow Decay

Fleeting moments of endlessness
Non-returning prospect of the bygone
A few Radios with broken heads
A beheaded porcupine with his tree
Beyond the horizon
The same corn-fields of mellowness
Causeways of dark matter
And a couple of familiar eyes
With unfamiliar instincts
Unbridled were we…

Comatose hours of cherry picking
Indolent bliss and faded glory
Walked upon a clay road
Through bridges and undulations
And then broken chords of awakening
Smudged adieus and interrupted
Silence; It’s all shards now
I will bypass this futility(as they would say)
But not today
And unbridled were we…