Faceless figure, nameless tags in the mirror screens

Saints, angels— colours are having mad dashes

across the blemish blue and red, means no means

light feeds the fairground, wanting ends of another dim astray.

Lost hopes as we steer'd on life's stormy salt sea,

pages of darkness, bleached floor is shaken

and sometimes I wonder the days of old when

it seem'd less cold, rainbow's brush tucking in their feet.

What's the heart of solitaire land? Cubicles

in the density, in the inner solitude: no one gets free,

as we stand firm, we stand aloof in the end of streetlights

the light clicked on, a proud glimmer— before the night winked.

It felt strong, the slap of wind —hitting on your face

so gently, so fiercely— and the night prolonged,

they sing, they weep, they laugh in the corner

Dwellers of swelled crests as the tears make it on their faces.

And he chuckled and chucked down their solace

grim, eyes full of perks, listen intently—

"To-morrow should be different, sweet and unanswered!"

Whether they swim or sink, hit or miss their sync.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Part (iii) is coming soon!