Marionette Haiku

Floating in the sky

Like white fluid still in time

But moves in slow grace

Swirled with a brush by an oil painter

Yet sculpted with regality of wood

A whisper full of substance

An illusion of support

I rot in here now

Along with the old milk can

In the garbage bin.

Your love too

Has expired just like

The milk can.

Now I rot

With the milk can and

Your spoilt love.

24/7 running in my head,

not a moment of peace and constant

restlessness.

24/7 walking to a beat,

a pressurizing pulse to synchronize

every action with a piece whose name

I can't recall.