I am, gradually,
degree by degree,
withdrawing myself from the world.
Our raging world of explanations,
rationalizations, reasons,
the one that carries a cadaverous
existence of logic, is splitting apart.
And a nameless orb inside me is
summoning through its artistic flashes.
I am plucking the hearts of
brewing stories in me
and planting it on the
sideways of dry city lanes.
I am retrieving so many
fruits of my merry struggles
with my teeth diving into
scrumptious sweetness
that the real world is losing its edge.
Like a broken stereo being
preferred over mirrored-mono
upon finding the right channel.
I have this whole universe
of travel reveries and paper towns
being redefined in me
that I have stopped missing
the flickering gateways of stars
and moon I see from my naked eyes.
I fear
I’m becoming wildly ignorant
of what they want me
to know or to accept.
Like a child who
would happily paint
the skies green, trees black
and the tadpoles pink.
I see a self within;
with big feet, tiny head
and a disproportionate body chasing
the sweet melody of wind chimes
and a poetic plastered heart
brave enough to want
what it wants.
I’m hanging on the palm trees
and windows panes of this world
by a single thread of farewell,
like a cartoon character
dangling on a cliff
only waiting to be
swept away by strong winds.
I fear one day I’d leave
the logics of monochromes
and chromosomes the same way.
I am afraid of
NOT missing this world
but of not MISSING this world
and getting lost into aesthetic oblivion.
©kanikachugh