[36] #NaPoWriMo (7/30) [ A Bucket List of Dust ]

A list of imagination, impossibilities, reverence I had made
Until dust had consumed it under my bed
turning my conscience a far gone mirage
Until my tired eyes tried to make sense of it still
My weighty eyes drag on them, my spines they chill

A list that screamed positivity, I chanced upon
The first; achieve optimal mental health
A flurry of hallucinations and anxiety grips me still
One of the voices whisper “Good job, well done until”
it all flashed in front of my eyes, the ending not a happy one
But I thought it would suffice.
I die. Life got me still.

A list that told of lofty lies I built for myself
The fourth; smoke words every day
A haze full of intoxication seeps through my veins
The laughter it rains, the dreams they just drain
But I thought for a while, wasn’t it words not weed
Wasn’t I supposed to plant seeds, not concede
To the paralysis of my thoughts.
I die. Life got me still.

A list that sprinkled nothing but bad luck
The seventh; stay alive
The lucky seventh they say, it has its own way
A beautiful meditation on life, an easy ride they say
With every breath, it feels like I weigh more
My life, a performance of a catastrophe
But still I perform, is it just good luck or good form?
I live. Luck got me still.

– Rahul Gaur

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3 thoughts on “[36] #NaPoWriMo (7/30) [ A Bucket List of Dust ]

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