Lahore, Oldie but goldie, Poetry

Signs point me in directions,
Telling me that my senses
Are never wrong.
They tell me that
This isn’t a dream,
This reverie of sheer desire.
Blanketed in confusion,
I walk on through
The alleyways of desire,
Browsing through the windows,
Tasting delightful wares,
Following copious curves,
Cloying my appetite.
Comes the night
& sweeps me into things
Deeper, darker, intense, sublime.
Seem tasteless now.
Seem burdened, forced, faux.
A smile sells a nation,
A smile sells a soul,
A wink, a nod, an appreciation,
A mile more to roll.
Excess. It’s a mind game,
We play with other players
Who are as confused as we are
With the dizziness of pride,
In the business of desire.



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