Ode to the Dying Night

Morning, good! 
The dying night 
I cry for, 
it drags away
my dreams with it, 
to purgatory,
where the lust
is retained,
desires n myths too.
And purity?
That's purged 
in a summer bonfire. 

Fire in the Hall

The wretched hall,
replete with flickering
Super AMOLED minds;
uniform, disciplined
by servers and
a world-wide shackle.

The ergonomic aisles
fuel a relentless
quest for perfection.
But bastard, you,
perfection is a myth,
while our existence
is but a mere conspiracy
hatched by the internet. 

The Good Ol' Trail

Well, the dust settles
over the li'l trail
from home to manhood.
I look back,
the dreams smile at me.
The man beams,
the child cries,
yet again, and again... 

For I write with my
feelings;
love with my
soul;
and fight with my
heart!

pic: wikipedia.org

The Fighter!

Comfortably numb at
the knuckles,
but the fighter cries...
The pain remains,
still,
of the elusive
showdown with destiny,
with shadows, the reality.

The draw is simple,
again,
but the warrior burns,
for he has forgot
what pain is...
Yes, what exactly is pain?

-- Few lines in honour of Mike Tyson

Pic: cyberboxingzone.com