Filling in the Blanks- a Daydreamer’s Delirium

Sometimes, not so often, but regularly yet

The colors disappear.

On rain-soaked evenings or cloudy noons

My story-telling mind lets me down.

And all my selves that never were-

All those colorful powerful happening selves

I gave myself cease to excite me.

The bleakness makes her presence felt

Like the constant dripping sound of water

Running down an overworked tap.

I grope around in the blank grayness

To regain my lost fantasies.

Am I insane or ill?

Why can’t I live as I am?

I fear me sometimes- I fear my dreams.

And I fear the illusory happiness I run after,

My idle imaginations-if they engulf me

Or worse: melt away when the future comes-

The future of all the extra-ordinary happenings

Which I have kept at bay over the years,

When it at last arrives and the dreams shatter,

Will I be able to live and love?

When I finally out-grow my wishful fairy-tales

Will I be able to fill in the blanks?