Centipedes on a mission

Like half-ripened fruits with toothpicks
For legs and arms, faces masked with
colourful dupattas, they tumble on,
centipedes on a mission.
Perhaps life a compact crossover
between foggy dreams and concrete
Reality drives them... they trudge on.
The lukewarm tea nourishes me
As halfheartedly as these notes.
Looking away from the mess upclose
at the kaleidoscopic canvas of life
is a tasteless meal that must sustain me.