“Don’t run home soon” Tavy insisted,
Its cold orange brew bubbled before me,
As the meridian crossed a starless night; my head, distant.
Tavy didn’t mean to ruin but his humble order made me see
Was he merely gesturing I stay as I do
Or do I subside and tilt my glass
Forgetting the innate questions I upon asked?
Damned souls of purgatory croaked half-wittedly,
One drooling demons tongue spoke snide remarks,
Tho’ the hops and yeast failed to please me,
My mind riddled my previous questions; surpassed.
From womb till’ present agenda and in-between,
Have, I, myself made my path or was it merely foreseen?
As I beat my chest and conjure the loathsome goat,
I scream unholy narcissist terms with woven intentions,
“Who am I to make my own mind, my decision?”
And just like that, Tavy broke a sweat and meet a foul collision.
It was in that room that Deaths black robe brushed me,
Not giving the least attention to his brothers of sin.
The demons vanished by dawns break as the lights of hell finally dimmed,
Taking with them my thoughts and answers,
Never again returning – my questions left fading in the void.