Thursday, June 2, 2011

Desires

Desires they call it silly, no no..they ain’t no desires…
They are mere long days and boss’ mean ways
They are my means of escaping and has nothing to do with soul-mating…

Alcohol supports my sins…it is a transporter of sorts
Makes me forget the past, the guilt and leaves me with no remorse

This aint any poem you people…this is a mere account of a night of passion,
Night of sins in the bar and in a house overlooking the Qutub Minar

This is just a few words strung together in a rhymic willey
No no…they ain’t no desires silly!

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