Past has a bad rap

television keeps blinking
the phone notifies of things that do not matter

I let the past stay where it is, in the past
the present is languidly pacing itself
                 a sloth in high motion
there is not a step that has been taken
            movement has withdrawn itself into a shell
it is fearful of being hacked

my friends came and went, I think
it is but a notion
existential overtones bear within me

asking questions of what I seek to do

I said
  I need progression
isn't that what breaks monotony
I live in a perception of progress but I am not moving
It is like walking and yet never reaching any place new

The notion of advancement keeping me alive

But in the real I am just existing
inside a perception called love
I love, but reciprocation is what makes liaisons drape well

Love is all that counts
I am not counting on the movement there
but sets in motion a series of reactions

a pretty set of crayons align themselves
placate my state with colorful brilliance
a testimony to the journeys I have partaken
They tumble out of their closeted existence
hues of mottled luster -

the grey don't stay back
but they are reminiscences that make me who I am

so allow the past to plummet back
and in unison with the present I continue the ennui
           indolently moving from this hour to the next

bountiful, happy, lazy and in love