procrastinate,    we

It’s a stupor only broken by an extreme case of delirium.

What’s your idea of it ?

to-do list

breathe-in a cloud

make room in the head

sleep on a ripple

see the world red

finish reading that letter

then imagine it unread

let go a trailblazer

chase it till it’s dead

Dilly-dallying is like romancing with the clock,

like playing last man standing against time in a western,

or simply like staring into nothingness with your thoughts playing a kaleidoscope .

to-do list

waltz on thin ice

gulp down some sun

suck on a mango’s seed

stay on the run

turn it all on its side

consider it pun

track veins on a neck

catch a nap when it’s done

The link between procrastination and the mild,

romantic, sweet guilt that rises from it is elastic.

The snap-back moment is erratic.

I stretched a moment till the end of time.

I pulled a dot till it became a line.

I can let you have some of my days.

But this procrastination is all and all mine

And as I had anticipated, the moment came and knocked on the door. I looked at the thin gap between the door’s edge and the floor. Moment’s feet moved nervously,
awaiting to hear me get out of the bed and walk towards the latch. That didn’t happen. Knocked twice more. I still chose to ignore. The tension rose now to the fore.
“Two more knocks, and I’ll open the door. Just one knock, and I’ll ignore some more” – I told myself.

Moment knocked just once, waited hopelessly for a while and then left. I heard the sound of the footsteps fade away. As they seemed to have travelled a safe distance,
I turned in bed, sighed some relief, closed my eyes,

and smiled a little

procrastinate,    we

This is what it looks like.

This is what it feels like.