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Sasha Ranganath Feb 2017
​when you wish an earthquake would pave way for rubble to make you a cradle until the gravestone can be placed,

when you wish an airplane would crash into your window and pin your heart and heaviness away,

when youre breathing to hang on to life, yet want to give it away

when you can hear your lungs fill and deflate, making you feel like youre going to cave in

when you feel the noise around you is slowly going to pluck every braincell out of your head and not let them regenerate

when the music next to your bed is the only thing keeping you sane when footsteps make your heart race when clawing at your legs keeps the screams at bay when making another mark of metal seems too far away

when youre just yelling for the sun to go away because the sun makes people stay awake with noise grenades flying here and there it’s chaotic and a vortex of despair

am i being selfish

because noise grenades are borne by people trying to live another day while im here in my bed under blankets  

cursing them away
Sasha Ranganath Feb 2017
if life is like a box of chocolates
and i will never know what i’ll get,
how long do i have to await
the poisoned one?

or is every piece filled
with a little bit of poison
that takes eighty years to ****
or seventy five
or tomorrow
or today.

you ever wake up at 6 am on a holiday
and try to force yourself back to sleep?
bur your body just refuses and insists
to slouch into the arms of your mind
the arms of your mind that keep you
in shackles of an uncertain next second
what if a bomb goes off
what if an earthquake happens
what if that plane in the sky i hear crashes into my window
what if my neighbours die
what if someone is murdered in front of my eyes
what if what if what if
this uncertain next second is certain
to be the cradle i lay in as i take my last breath
will you say goodbye?
or will you walk by like you’ve always done?

will you fulfill the hunger at the pit of my stomach?
will you play my favourite songs at my funeral?
(will there even be a funeral?
do you know my favourite songs?)

this uncertain next second will sing me to slumber
and shake me awake at 6 am on a holiday
remind me of my 2 am poetry
and put my body in your hands to carry.
Sasha Ranganath Feb 2017
i love you so much
today
tomorrow
and the uncertain next second.
through our anxiety and my tendencies
through your nausea and guilt.

my love,
i will love you today
i will love you tomorrow
but what if there's no tomorrow.
what if i turn to ash
what if i'm six feet below the ground
will you know?
will you realise?
4483 miles away?
will your hands reach my burning body?
will your lips touch my lips that are fading?
will your tears stain my face that now serves as a garden for new life?
will i feel your knees making a burrow in the ground
as you crouch over and tell me all the things you never could?

tell me will you promise me not to make it rain too much?
give me your word, you'll find another someone to love
say you'll get off the mud and make your way back home
because i have the privilege today
of easing you out of your misery, even by just a budge
but tomorrow you may be the one
trying to open my eyes, giving me a nudge
wake up
don't go just yet
we never got to dawn or dusk.

my love,
we never got to dawn or dusk
but you will
you will, right?
let go before you hit the bone
let go before you can't feel a thing anymore
let go
remember me
but let go.

for the last time,
i'm sleepy
goodnight
i love you.
for my love all the way in sweden
Sasha Ranganath Sep 2016
sitting down drawing circles on sand
by the ocean for 16 years without disturbances,
save a few hefty feet trampling down sand castles
but then one day something happened
and an overwhelming wave comes hurling itself at you,
and you have no escape plan despite living on the sand all your life
the wave comes bearing galaxies from atlantis,
blinding starlight, and a myriad perfect seashells.
it feels like an eternity,
being consumed by the wave as you're given
a tour of every attraction there is,
receiving free samples every now and then.
you succumb to the star dust,
enthralling you like a child at disneyland,
or tumblr teens on the fourth of july.
it feels like you're the only one lucky enough
to witness this spectacle, and you're marvelling
marvelling
marvelling
marvelling
marvel-
.
.
.
.
.
no air
you're gasping
muddy
sand in your eyes
and through the excruciating discomfort,
you see a hundred other silhouettes looking back at you.
---;
this is how it was, loving him briefly.
and this will stare him in the face,
but perhaps his eyes, too, full of sand
will stare right back at me
“silhouettes” he'll say
“silhouettes are what make my day”
Sasha Ranganath Sep 2016
he sings about a family photograph
in a language i understand no better
than a mathematical equation
and i grasp the strength and weakness in his voice
and the vibrations they send through my wooden table and all its contents
my eyelids flutter open and shut like a dying moth,
trying to be in sync with the music but unable to
i stretch and fold my legs as i hit the replay button,
crack some knuckles and glance around in double vision
as i'm being slowly oxidized to death
i have pictures of a smiling childhood idol
pasted on the wardrobes,
a  series of little pale yellow lights
taped apologetically to the textured, pastel blue wall.
i have writings on my wall in colours i cant find within myself,
and i suddenly pray this poem won't disappear
with the glitches of technology.
i pray to nobody, no god, no spirit.
being the atheist i am, i feel strange closing my eyes,
“please let it be okay” echoing in my head every time.
but these are not my thoughts.
these are not your thoughts.
they simply are.
he continues belting out notes
and i breathe without rhythm.
my lungs are tone deaf.
i get goosebumps on my hairless limbs for a second.
applause resounds, it's a live recording of the song.
short pause, next.
piano picks up pace
and the mellow voice of a different man
of the same tongue fills the room.
a little more lively.
i realize it's not the words you need
to understand what he means.
Sasha Ranganath Jul 2016
i want to
just lay without saying a word
no noise, no disturbances
just you, me and our thoughts running wild.
i want us to lay inside and
be each other's safe place
when the world is drowning.
you talk so greatly of things trivial to me
you don't stop to listen to what my mind speaks
im not complaining; i love your voice and articulation
but it would be nice if you gave me a chance to at least whisper.
true, im not the most interesting person
and i have obscure thought processes
and it's boring to be verbal about it
but i just get lost when you ramble on and on
and i can't fit the pieces together a lot of the time.
i'm sure you don't realize that i feel this way
and i'm far too apprehensive to tell you.
my head is a battleground between feeling unwanted
and reassuring myself that i'm just delusional.
i like to think i'm important to you
but i being my insecure self, almost never believe it.
i sound like such a sad sack
and i won't deny that i need constant reassurance
but rather than the world consoling me all the time,
it would be nice if only you, just you,
gave me the time and opportunity
to talk for once.
i adore you. and i know you don't feel the same way about me; i can't even persuade you.
but just let me tell you about myself sometimes, maybe you'll feel differently.
maybe.
sorry.
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