4 a.m. —
and I am the king of the world,
queen of all things feral.
I burn brighter than the stars,
a galaxy full of possibilities.
My reign eternal;
I am the only one alive
and I want to live dangerously.

Want —
with one word the light goes out,
the stars dip beyond the sea,
my crown tumbles to the ground,
I am pulled back to reality.

Back —
here and now
I rub my eyes;
feel my lambent desires die
as morning resurrects
all of my insecurities.

Fractured mind;
tattered soul;
a body in ruin —
that’s me.

Morbid thoughts;
frozen heart;
bloated fingers —
that’s me.

Despair and hope.
Love and hate.
Cruel tenderness —
that’s me.

A smoking gun,
a flawed someone
perfectly imperfect —
that’s what I want.

Even though a cold heart
tries to remain unfeeling,
detached,
unexpected kindnesses
and easy smiles
remind it
that the world is still a warm place.

Even though a broken heart
tries to remain wounded,
lamenting,
changing seasons
and fresh desires
remind it
not all love has to be eternal.

Even though a trembling heart
holds fears
of the unknown,
curiosity to know what lies
beyond comforting complacency
remind it
that courage finds those who seek it.

Even though a lonely heart
tries to remain stoic,
shut in,
fleeting joys,
pure and tender,
tempt it
to choose hope over despair.

This morning,
I fell from a dream
so bittersweet
that for a moment
I wanted to shut my eyes
and ***** my way back
to that make-believe paradise.

In there,
I had everything
I had once coveted
and some things
I never dared to desire.
Almost enough
to make me happy.

Dazed and delirious,
I still couldn’t help but notice -
Laughter there sounded hollow,
the gratification was never deep.
Splendid as things were,
they would last only while I was still asleep.

What good is a paradise
that can disappear in the blink of an eye?
The truth, though ordinary, always
outshines the most extraordinary lie.

Fact or fiction, there was a choice to be made;
Open my eyes and wake up or choose to be afraid.
It was easy to give up that land of whimsical fantasy,
To plunge back into the depths of  my sordid reality.

The diffused gleam of jaded dreams
like a siren call upon our desires deep
to sink again in their harrowed streams.

We walk on towards better things
trailing the hummingbird of hope.
Onward, intrepid on rainbow wings.

We live to die another day and begin
with a fated end. Till then we spend
our hours fueling the fire held within.

Why settle for being the fallen fruit
when we can sprout, lush and green?
Again, we will grow; we will take root.

A yellow moon, all puffed up.
A sullen sky, the night air
still smelling of rain.

He stands on the bridge
where she broke his heart
on a night like this.
Hands in his pockets,
he stands, looking at the people
never seeing their faces.
People oblivious to his pain.

He waits for the rage
to descend, as it always does
on the nights he can’t keep away
from the place he got his heart broken.
He waits,
and waits
bewildered
when it doesn’t come.

Then in a moment of perfect clarity,
he realizes
that he doesn’t hurt anymore.

He looks up
and smiles at the yellow moon.
For the first time in ages
he notices it is a beautiful night.

Once.
Twice.
Three times
and four….

Like clockwork,
every five minutes,
he opens the fridge door.

He knows it is empty
but he’s got the munchies;
he can’t help himself.

Maybe he’s hoping to find
a tasty treat left for him
by a fairy, a pixie or a kind elf.

This seems like a plausible excuse,
the only way to explain
why he keeps peeping into an empty fridge
over and over and over again.

Today was nothing more
than a woeful echo
of my life yesterday.
And the same is true for
every day I have lived
ever since I gave up.

I don’t remember
what led me down this
lonely desolate
path of nihilism,
of self-destruction.

I don’t recall
a time I felt
differently.
Blank mind. Blank walls.

So I wait,
stoic, numb,
as silence

descends
upon

me.

Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder
if I’m a manifestation
of someone’s imagination.
Or dreamt by one in deep slumber
Trapped by a spell they are under.

Often I feel invisible;
There are few who really see
who I am when they look at me.
Though far from being miserable,
I find my world more mystical.

I sang a song that made them weep.
I sang a song that made them gasp.
I sang a song about lost love
although I had neither loved
nor suffered a great loss.

They fell in love with the song,
and showered me with praises.
I bristled at every kind word,
I loathed the adulation.
I couldn’t decide whom I hated more –
these people who couldn’t spot my insincerity
or myself for starting the sham.

Icy ball of fire,
vitriol soaked thoughts.
Raw from the undeserved love,
I sang another song –
this time of the putrid hatred
coursing through my veins.

My audience increased double-fold.
They applauded me for “being brave”
and “baring my pain”.
I couldn’t understand
how all my hostility
inspired such whole-hearted acceptance.

While I sat brooding,
one more song came to me.
A tender tune,
of warn repose.
And when I sang it,
I didn’t need to think
whether they would love it or hate it
because this time,
I sang the song for me
and I loved it.

I can see the light,
it surrounds them.
It shines from within.
The light,
it spills from their mouths
and winks when they blink.
I see it spark from their fingertips,
roll in waves behind their footsteps.

Luminous beings,
such surreal things,
and I, a mere spectator.
Set apart from the rest
by the sharp pain in my chest,
I can do nothing
except concentrate on my breathing
and think about what I should do next.

Few possess the quiet faith to see past today’s tangled mess.
Most of us, victims of self-doubt, will accept what we call our fate.
Some though, know we must strive to silence the voice that says “You cannot.”.

Sweet, sweet those sounds of blithe songs and laughter;
They still find me in my dreams on lonesome nights.
Bitter, bitter the silence in my heart the morning after.

Once, a daft heart soared to discover someone dafter;
Oddballs together, we tasted the world’s wacky delights.
Sweet, sweet those sounds of blithe songs and laughter.

Jokes so silly, never unkind, banter flew by faster.
The crazy faces we so carelessly wore highlights
Bitter, bitter the silence in my heart the morning after.

Subtle changes sometimes hurt more than sudden disaster.
One heart has evolved while the other fool still cites
Sweet, sweet those sounds of blithe songs and laughter.

Life is a long book; our frolics were only one chapter.
Reminiscing about those golden olden days invites
Bitter, bitter the silence in my heart the morning after.

Frail those bonds never were, friendship never did shatter;
Separate but close, we’re both still oddballs by all rights.
Sweet, sweet those sounds of blithe songs and laughter,
Bitter, bitter the silence in my heart the morning after.

Break free
of the limits
you have set for yourself.
The only one who can save you
is you.

Knees brought up to chin,
Legs folded in,
Hunched shoulders,
Arms wrapped around me.
The soft brush of luminous wings
Against the wetness of my cheek;
Millions of cold clammy fingers
Raise goose bumps everywhere.
Lightness and oppressing weight,
Bright light and murky night.
Butterflies and shadows,
Both within me and all around.

A savage storm has laid siege to the night.
But I am warm and cozy in my bed.
Finally, I can get some sleep tonight;
the thunder drowns the white noise in my head.

Lightning flashes and my eyelids turn red.
And yet I feel the blessed heaviness
guide me slowly into vast nothingness.

C – me, slumped over in bed,
       tousle-headed, still half-dreaming.
O – the yawn, long as it is wide,
       accompanied by copacetic stretches.
F – a familiar pose,  
       bent over my phone, browsing.
F – the faucet gushing,
       my toothpaste dislodged unceremoniously.
E – the stack of banana pancakes,
       doused in honey, decimated briskly.
E – the coffee maker beeps,
       the ****** to a routine morning.

Bring back those summers
when all I did was read books
and snooze under the noisy fan;
**** on ice pops
until my lips went numb;
gorge on black jamuns,
rolling the pits over my tongue;
listen to the radio cycling
the same twelve songs…

It was all I did.
It was enough.

I still do the things I did then –
I read,
laze around
with my earphones on,
eat what I like,
and do whatever else I want.

Yet I can’t shake the restlessness –
It’s not enough.

Summer remains the same.
I am the one who has changed.

Dawn: I slipped away, started walking…
I walked alone for a thousand days -
I wandered through crowded cities,
Trudged through untrodden ways.

Now every road looks the same to me,
The allure of the unknown has faded.
Every day I lose myself a little more,
Always a cynic, I feel even more jaded.

It’s been so long I don’t even remember
What I was looking for when I set out
Leaving everything, everyone behind
With no scruples, no shadow of doubt.

Now I crave for things long forgotten;
I long for the times when secretly I knew
That no matter how far I drifted,
I would always find my way back to you.

Only you’ve gone someplace I can’t follow;
Not yet. Someday soon  although.
For now, I’m ready to come home and face
Your memories from a million moons ago.

Respect
does not
warrant meek submission.

Loyalty
is a
two-way street.

Obedience
cannot be
mistaken for assent.  

Justice
should be
free of prejudice.

Being human feels
like a compromise.

I have –

Poison in my head.
A heart that is beating
but might as well be dead.

Anxiety ticking through my limbs,
clawing at my throat,
a thousand tiny pins
scratching to spill out.

Rage,
terrible, blinding, impotent.
Cold fury,
I break my bones to contain.

Puny sorrows that rub me raw.
Self-deprecation
that is more self-loathing
than feigned humility.

Amidst all this misery
I do also feel
kindness, joy, compassion.
Wonder, hope, faith
have yet to forsake me.

Let me whisper another confession –
I admit,
I have made playmates of all my demons.

Savage as they are,
I am wilder still.
I haven’t yielded yet
and I never will.

Some girl I never knew
knew an art that wasn’t kung fu.
She did not whistle well
when her peaches didn’t sell.
And a boy I never liked
loved her not at first sight.
He kissed her on a day it didn’t rain
never to lay eyes on her again.
Nary a soul whispers her name,
nary a heart feels any shame.
She was pretty not so long ago,
this girl I will never know.

Silky vanilla custard
(fluffier than clouds)
sweetened ever so slightly,
topped with wafer-thin
layer of hot, crisp
caramel.
Crack!

Scratch-scratch-scratch the effing itch;
today, I really need to wash my hair.
Dry shampoo does little to tame the twitch,
scratch-scratch-scratch the effing itch.
No plans mean no washing days to switch –
it’s not like I am going to go anywhere.
Scratch-scratch-scratch the effing itch.
Today, I really need to wash my hair.

Today will be different,
the proverbial U-turn.
Today the people you love
will love you back.
Today you will know serendipity.
All ladders, no snakes;
No dips, only crests.
The dreams you nursed
will finally come true.
Today your smile will be real,
not just a façade.

Yes, today will be different.
And if it isn’t,
Tomorrow will be.
Definitely…
Maybe.

It is time to wake up
from the languid daydreams
that once I treasured so.

The place that used to be a haven,
an escape from life’s banality,
now feels like a gilded cage.

The mind wanders, untethered,
through sunlit corridors of indolence
pushing to see how far it can go.

Tantalizing me with possibilities,
never reality, this limbo
is only good for the occasional vacation.

I don’t say I’m fine anymore; I don’t lie.
I rely instead on my dexterous deflection
of courteous concern. I have become sly;
Let’s talk about you – our shared predilection.
It is mutually beneficial – my deception.

Life is like a roller coaster —
Up and down, down then up we go.
Or so I read once in a motivational poster.
Well, life must knock me down pretty hard
Because somehow I keep missing the good part.

Yes, hello, how are you? How have you been? I want to tell you about a lot of things. Like the pigeon I spoke to the other day. It listened. It stayed as if it understood how much I needed to vent.

There was also a story I read. I knew it how it was going to end. You often do with tragic endings. Nevertheless, I persisted. I read all the words and wept just like the writer wanted me to. It was an adequate excuse to mope for a bit.

I discovered I can no longer bend enough to touch my toes. I wonder when that happened. An afternoon spent reaching for my feet left me with a pulled hamstring, a sweaty nose, and a shallow sense of shame. But I am not too concerned.

What else? See, I keep forgetting the stories, the baubles, I saved for you.

Oh, yes! I found a secluded pathway when I got lost during an evening stroll. I was too keen to find my way bay back to heed the bluebells that beckoned me like will-o’-the-wisps. But I went back the next day and followed the narrow tracks till it emerged to a low ridge overlooking the city. There was a well-worn tree stump that made me think that maybe this was someone’s hideout.

I feel you  
lover mine
bloom under my touch –  
opal eyes
kindled, anticipating;
fragrant skin
alive with an awakening.

And I  
loom in the shadows
of your errant breathing.

I see you
lover mine
recede to the place
warm, amenable
where my words
(wounds, really)
diffuse into nothing.

And I  
rush, frantic  
to quell the bleeding,
the outpour
of my uninvited feelings.

Something about her
makes you curious.

Her beauty
turns many heads
as she glides across a room.
Her laugh,
a mellifluous sound,
envelopes you like mist
on a winter morning.
She has pearly, neat handwriting
that leans in a different direction
every other day.

She is also kind.
An incorrigible affinity to broken wings,
she likes to fix people
and their problems (on occasion).
Is her heart full of compassion?
Or is she trying to escape
her own life by finding the solution
to any problem
other than her own?

Blue bird,
every time I set you free
unfailingly, you fly back to me.
Perched out of reach
never out of mind
evermore locked in my gravity.

I know, blue bird,
the quandary of a heart
so willingly ensnared.
I remember the soothing drum
of its unquiet content.

I have longed for the keen
euphoric sting you bring
even as I banished you.
Without you
I am an empty nest.
I am so… heavy
with you.

Only I can let you go.
Only you can return to me.

Every day now my mind grows weary,
Shards of broken dreams wound me daily.
Caught in a web of endless expectations,
All I can do is quietly daydream;
Plan every step of my grand escape,
Even if I only do it to get through the day.

Spark
a rebellion
among the sheep.

Watch them burn out,
go back to sleep.

I do what I want
I want to do everything
Everything that pleases me
Everything I can try
Try to taste every flavour of ice cream
Try to howl at the moon unabashedly
Unabashedly moonwalk in front of someone
Unabashedly confess to my longtime crush
Crush my reluctance to smithereens
Crush it like a boss every single time
Time to be my own hero
Time to see how far I can go
Go one step further than yesterday
Go to sleep when I need some rest
Rest easy till I can recuperate
Rest but never ever quit
Quit being so ******* myself
Quit taking failure so personally
Personally go to places I only see in pictures
Personally meet old friends I only text
Text first without any ego
Text my family more frequently
Frequently feel the wind blow through my hair
Frequently let the morning sun warm my face
Face rough times with dignity
Face myself in the mirror with sincerity
Sincerity in all my relationships
Sincerity in everything I do
Do that chore now instead of later
Do some yoga and drink more water
Water the plants
Water them twice in hot weather
Weather life’s big roller-coaster
Weather rough days with a smile
Smile as I take my first sip of coffee
Smile when I hear the birds sing
Sing off-key in the shower
Sing sad songs to feel better
Better to be alone than to be lonely
Better to feel sad than nothing at all
All I want is to be true to myself
All I need is freedom
Freedom to live as I please
Freedom of independent thought
Thought I had life figured out
Thought I found the secret to happiness
Happiness is a choice
Happiness is personal
Personal…
Choice…

After much thought, I have adopted a smile.
Everyone always said I needed one to be complete;
absolutely could not have a full life without it.
As if life is a glass of water
standing on time’s table.

Do it sooner, they said,
so you both can grow up together.
It’s easier when you’re young
and still have the energy.

I had already raised a few little monsters.
My frowns and pouts and scowls
were in full bloom and flourishing.
How much harder could this be?
Smiles are easy to babysit.
I liked the idea of nurturing one as mine.

So, we brought home this shy wee thing.
She’s still getting used to the place,
nervous around her siblings.
But I am happy to report
every day her confidence grows
and soon, I hope
she will call us her family.