Your harsh whips upon my skin,
The shackles around my feet,
The cuffs on my hands,
Why must I endure this?
What have I done?
Did I cause this?
Was it my fault,
O’ dear captor,
Please let me go,
I have a life I must live,
Upon my last vowel,
A booming voice echoes,
“Memento mori”
I’m not perfect I know,
But please give me a chance,
Give me a chance to prove myself,
Allow me to tear off this mask at once,
This crimson speckled mask.

Thank you my dear,
You have set me free,
Now let this be upon me,
I will now perform my greatest act,
And pull off this wretched mask,
As I tug and tug,
I am not released,
For years I try,
Why won’t it come off?
Will I ever be free,
The mask is all I know,
It has been with me through thick and thin,
This so-called wretched mask,
Is it me?  
What constitutes my identity?
What features make me,
Me?
It is as though I have never left those chains,
No matter how far I run,
No matter how many twists and turns,
His voice follows me,
“Memento mori”,
I’ve reached the end of my crossroad,
Remember,
I must die.

And the steam is gone,
Clean now — everything.
But the tub.
Dirt days and dirt of the day
Ring around the tub,
Stays, a conjunction,
And, but, Baby is gone with the water.

We notice the dirt, the after bath aftermath,
Or I notice the dirt, because it is just me,
And the steam is gone.
Draining is slow:
A clog of pocket watches;
Lovers’ tresses;
First communion necklaces;
And flecks of sparrows’ wings.

The sparrows know better,
Bathing in the sand, brake dust,
The gutter grit.
The irons,
Dirt-day rings around my ankles, a conjunction.
Too fettered to flap like the sparrow,
To shake-shiver filthy clean.

While I was passaging around;-
In an acquainted car, deprived of any hint of tints
My soul felt stuck inside that glass box;
Clear as a lucid bright day, to see how fragile I am

The glass in itself;- was reflective, so picturized
Boldly showing all the ugliness written out,
By the milage in my eyes.

when it happened it was a surprise
like opening a birthday gift
from someone who didn't know you well

you're only grateful
when the moment is over

but the moment never died

for some reason
it eats where I eat
sleeps where I sleep
hides where I hide

it has taken over

he had no right to get close
to trap me in a single moment

if I was a sun
then I am not anymore
because his touch burned me
somethings shouldn't be ignored

Another night comes to end replaced by sunrise
While shamefully witnessed through jaded hazel eyes
Morning smiles are met with awkward no replies
It seems as if recreation developed into the demise

I flip conversations with people like a mattress,
just an excuse to put a lot of arguments to rest.
As if time isn't good enough for me to miss,
I'll set my targets on doing something better another time,
to come back to the previous line's rhyme,— just
to prove I haven't fallen asleep, as I digress.

Still with all due respect, respect for a lot of things
seems a bit late, when all the clocks are put to death;
while we're all killing most of the time. But I should
bag a couple more seconds, to add to the restlessness
under the bags of my eyes.
....I'm always so less inspired, when I actually have
something sensible to write,— To then choose to write
more when I'm round the corner of Writer's block,
breaking down every block of thoughts in my Tetris mind.

But seriously, what was the point of this in the first
place anyways,— right about some random mattress.
A mattress sort of represents me trying to stay soft with
my words, but being firm with their initial cause.
And somewhere in between this prose, I'm supposed to
quote how you shouldn't be sleeping on my words.
That's easy an cliche, a cliche to me, of waking up to an
ugly day from a long beauty rest. Sorry I meant to say
ironic; and it's sort of comic.  Not the one that makes
you laugh, but the material magazine you flip over
like the start of my random mattress.

And just like that, how I start most of the things in my life,
is how it ends, and starts again. So I guess for flips sake,
I'm back to flipping the mattress again, and again...