Catches at a Straw

Yellowish Butterfly lands her wings on the eyelids,
I hear dizzy sounds of ceiling air as obsessive sleep appears so rapid.

Engulfing slumber takes me deep down the bottom,
turning bed into clay to me,
turning pillow into grass.
as I wonder they were rich or they were just callous?

Night becomes deceiver,
Darkness becomes sober.
Like a prison opens to rope me up,
as if an inmate, got his hands, legs and wings all chained up.
Then succumbing to it, maybe as I was unfit
or I was solid,
slowly, my feet loses grip.

Felt my stability fled away cleft,
On my right and on my left,
and I clinch on grass for once,
trees for more than once
and sometimes on the firmament.
Clinch for thousand times on grass,
Yet, clay just take the pass,
Grass just take the pass.

I slip away and find
a Hill,
Even, that doesn’t give
any thrill,
Flees away Hill, Flees away green,
I struggled this for so deep,
Yet, all turned me into such a cretin.

In pin drop silence,
now, things just slip away,
move away from feet,
heads up far away neat,
and I get lost through
the space,
being stuck on my own empty space.
Yet, me not more than
a loser,
who just misses things to his closer.

© Shihab Shahariare Khan || developed by digibinary ||