Cannot figure this out at all,
What you have got after all
Or in that clear case, if at all!
A depthless squalid shadow
in the utter-dark mind gutters,
A negligence to anyone’s context,
fitting the only bill- the stigmatic wrinkling
upheavals of facetious remarks, a statement
of much on-going shapeless civilisation.
Still the open-minded tribal you are,
much-repelled simplistic beads
of ornaments, dangling softly in honest
echoing, unheard in deliberation,
In hapless fashion you roam about
within this strictly- wicked matrix,
trailing godly hopes all your way,
made to get your deserving goodie,
this knock-out gift of why-so -wondering
‘isolated’ state of haunting bitterness.
You have been a clear case
of ejected existence…expected
to be dejected to that limit–
–to be self-rotten to a decaying disappearance,
adding to their seconds of laughter in vengeance.
Better to be distantly confined-
To the silent island of a remote space-
yours very own, a tiny humble home- turf.
In a frenzied rage of superfluous survival,
People have just coffined themselves up-
Hermetic to the airiness of your nearness,
Allergic to your abrasive sparks of ignition-
Flying out their pretence to an ash of fractions.
Unpolished soul-ruffian you are filtered,
Lacking refined hypocrisies –a sole non-conformance,
Spelt out burns of societal truth in stark openness,
Consumes the sparse conscience sticking long unused
Reaper of self-crop, pour-in rare elements just to your plot.