An unfinished poem...

Iridescent dreams, technicolor on a blue black stage...

Soaring heights, endless depths and miles of nothingness,

a billion beautiful images, flash past, excite and engage,

Morphined away from what's real, the mess....

Wake up to what you face, a struggle and a bag of lies,

a daily sickening rigmarole, a hypocrite's paradise,

A mind numbing, breath choking closet of ice;

Curse the day fate rolled that decisive dice.

A poem to start things off.....

-----An incoherent whine of an incompetent existence.----

From the angst driven recesses of a much troubled mind,

fire red passions mangled to an ice blue hue,

ill-formed emotions peek out in search of expression,

to escape the bars of a comfortably numb heart.

Solo strings of an unaccompanied violin,

eke out a tune to pierce the eternal silence,

of a love never found, hope never lost,

orchestrating its symphonic fantasies.

A stab straight to the center of the heart,

the gushing blood, the blinding pain,

evidence at last that life still lingers,

a chance to scream out a billion unsaid emotions.

---- Shreedhar Iyengar----