I have become purple
but you disagree.
I stand in my monumental corner shop
with the world falling apart
and yet you continue to hammer
your flashing ultimatums into beautiful
collective disguises as providences of God
and I have been ballooned and bamboozled
following your syllabus of life.
Pour your red wine into my heart.
Eat my lilac breast with your disgusting soul
and my powerless eyes,
Yet I am still so surprised,
when am I not?
Everyone loves a tragedy,
although I refuse to compromise
but I do
because I am the biggest compromiser I know
and I rue myself as you rue
the lethargic distorted lemon leaves
around your pious porch
and your freshly issued Saint torch.
Run me over with your capital and your ideals.
Destroy me with the hand I do not have,
the heart I cannot yield.
I eat my cigarettes every way,
The ulcer in my mouth grows bigger each day,
As I move away from your idealistic envisions
and your God sent monuments.
Why do you mock me?
I am the game you flee from,
yet you choose to be my saviour.
And that too, you cannot succeed in.
You remind me of the ten pounds I put on,
And the ten I lost,
And I pity you.