Trash Poetry

A silence-swathed-summer night with a hint of upcoming monsoon in the air

half of the world getting ready to drop off into a peaceful unconscious affair

I sat

high on thoughts

switching to cheek on the dusty tome as the chin now hurts

thinking of boundaries to be drawn

I-could’ve-said(s), I-could’ve-done(s)

elses to alter in the big book of my past mistakes

and precautions, if I ever hit the rock bottom

then derailing from mistakes to histrionic obsessions

the chain of weird thoughts kept me dragging

from the need-to-forget to the-desire-to-remember

it threw me somewhere in between

I gave up

my handwriting turned into some indecipherable scrawl

and that’s how I ruined a potential poetry

yawningly forgot what was I writing at all