a girl with the pink hair
what are you doing this hour forlorn?
while you’re filling the void
in this air with a smell of a pee.
we’re riding same train,
whereas I am not Hungry Wolf
hence you’re not Red Riding Hood.
clanging wheels, ticking breaths,
counting cravings that we could have
while musing on numerous nights.
the trending intentions we flourish,
the attempts to redefine our past.
the misunderstandings we cherish,
imploded anticipations we lust.
I saw all these reflecting
in the rainbow sunglasses you wear,
protecting your eyes from the throw backs
that you’re so afraid to bear.
the imaginary Pan Piper
is calling you out.
you will get out and I’ll stay confined,
facing the void you made.