I don't know what to write or say, my brain is losing its own mind, and my heart lost its way.
Summer started and I crashed into a whole new dimension of sweet intoxicating freedom. But the perfumes were overwhelming and I was scared with all this boundless time.
I searched for friends, but they were no where to be found. And because of this change, I took it out on the one person who never left. Badgering him to be something he wasn't. I was bored and done. Lost in love and wondering who I had become. He was gone to, for some of the time. I knew not what to do, or where to go, or who to even talk to. I felt like a caged animal who had finally be rereleased into the wild, forgetting how to behave its natural way. I withdrew into my security and fought the outside for it kept trying to kill me. I had let my hair run wild, and I didn't wake up till about noon. I was lost, and I felt like a bum off the street without a job. And I struggled to figure out who I was and what was my purpose in life, especially that right now. Right now when life seem to be drifting by and I had all the time in the world, but had nothing to fill it with.

1
Like the  turning sheets
of a monthly calender,
life has layers after layers.

How would he know that ,
just a callow youth on  sea shore
playing with  smooth pebbles,
that was when he saw her first.

She was the woman who
taught him, whole cities lay merged
within a woman, like wave after wave,
she was a mystery like life itself.
There is no way to decipher.

2
They first met
in the city of light,
Diwali lamps were lit
in all courtyards,
It was an immortal moment
in his  life, he realized,
leading him gently to the light
which evaded him though he assiduously sought,
she parted without a word
Did she belong to someone else?
3
The city of sorrow,
yet again brought them  face to face
Ridden with angst of existence
he stumbled, was about to fall, then
he  could experience her iron will
more than a woman, she stood, like a pillar of strength,
she took his weary head in both hands, pressed to her breast,
pulled out the crown of thorns, their paths
diverged again, inexplicably complex, was their relationship.
4
In the city of guilt,
an unexpected meeting again,
they were surprised. Here, they were on their own.
They  wanted to take their lives in their hands,
in spite of the currents that pulled them to different directions.
But he knew all the while that her self, was divided between
three cities within  in her.They co-existed, Light.Guilt.Sorrow
will their love survive? Not all loves are intended to live long,
a parrot in his tree of loneliness always whispered.He pretended he didn't hear,
A game of dice, almost was their lives, mysterious forces did bet on their love,
Having traveled through fire and water, she was beyond pleasure and pain,
Kali with a fiery nose stud, female power that overcomes all pain,
she became, that shattered his dreams for them.
He was thankful, to be awakened by her,
the light she lit, burned bright, within.

Now or never.He crossed the river.
Deliverance comes from an inner source,
otherwise all will end as an idiot's tale
signifying nothing.
Her flame lighted his wick, liberated him.
5
Fire spitting dragons one can tame,
but in the duel with demons of life,
it could be a blood letting end,
call it play of chance or what ever
they are the  easy game here
He  packed his backpack and
started to move eastwards,
Westward bound was she, invariably,
her heart had still a song left for him,
the void was filled, the pain was stilled
with anesthetics of mind.
Just for one last time they went to the beach,
watching the sunset was their good bye to each other.
They never met again.

All things get better
In the end,
If it's not better,
It's not the end.

Every end
Is a
New beginning.

This is a new year
A new beginning
Things will change

Things change
And friends leave,
Life doesn't stop for
Anybody.

You're not just
Anyone.
One day,
You're going to have to
Make a choice.
You have to decide
What kind of man
You want to
Grow up to be.
Whoever that man is,
Good character or
Bad,
It's going to
Change the
World.

You either die a hero
Or live long enough
To see yourself become the
Villain

Heroes didn't
Leap tall buildings
Or
Stop bullets
With an outstretched hand;
They didn't wear
Boots and capes.
They bled, and they
Bruised, and their
Superpowers
Were as simple as
Listening, or
Loving.
Heroes were
Ordinary people
Who knew that
Even if their own lives
Were impossibly knotted,
They could untangle
Someone else's.
And maybe that
One act could
Lead someone to
Rscue you
Right back.

We argued over that Marc Bolan record
That I knew wasn’t mine anyway
We argued over that Marc Bolan record
It’s my demented way of passing the day

I love to see the lines on your forehead appear
They run so incredibly deep
I love to see the lines on your forehead, my dear
When you’ve got the bit between your teeth

So when I hear ride a white swan
I can’t help but think of your face
Fighting your corner for T.Rex
That cosmic dancer in outer space

I found a wise old man
over the weekend.
He was not condescending;
the wise man was my friend.
And I did not climb stairways
to meet my learned elder,
I fell o’er a threadbare cat;
listened, whilst I held her.

He crooked a swollen finger,
for he was hard of hearing,
far off eyes, a vapour blue;
not empty, and not leering.
And he chuckled in my ear:
All the answers he had found,
which the flowers chinese whispered
across the foreign grounds.

The way he told it showed me
how his gentle life solutions
were distorted and quite faded
after those emotional ablutions.
Yet each tale was a comfort;
marked one pretty girl, long lost;
beside him, pretty, every day,
despite the draining cost.

Then the blue sky clouded over
his eyes scruted the garden
I questioned ‘Are you well…?’
see the flesh cracks harden.
“Who’re you? Leave me; GET OUT”
for I was not his friend.
And then the nurses came,
though his confusion did not end.

I walked down to the front
for the afternoon was finished;
he no longer knew my name,
though I’d seen his mind diminish.
What a panging pain it is
to share with him cream tea,
whilst his mind is being taken
by that calm, corrosive sea.

My detective father
told me my identity
was in my finger prints
so i gazed  upon my finger tips
with no explanation
I pointed to a friend
who said he knew
me
like the back of  his hand
as he caressed my palm
tracing the lines of the future
I asked if he could tell me something
about my finger tips
he said they were stubby
and dropped my hand
I collected this information
without taking a stand
He doesn't know me at all
My detective father
told me lies
conceal the truth
so why bother?
I lied for twenty seven days
I figured
no one would pay attention
did I mention
I carved the mayan  calendar
yes
my fingers
shaped the future
my essence
On display
tapping my fingers
against the pavement
corrupted Earth
no one knows me from a hand shake
tho they've touched my identity
so when looking at your finger tips
remember it takes so much more
to know who your gonna be

Please justify your actions.
Give me some reason, and make it a good one, for what you did.
Did you just feign happiness?
Did you feed me lies that you knew would go straight from my ears to my heart,
Skipping over my head completely?
Why?
What purpose did you have?
And why, now that it's all over, do you insist upon making me feel like the villain?
You refuse to look at me, like I'm Medusa ready to turn you to stone.
But the only look you'll see on my face is a hurt confusion.
The anger went away quickly, and now there's this utterly perplexing hole left behind,
Because I still don't know why.
I know you were happy.
I know you genuinely cared about me, and us.
So what happened?
What broke in your mind, making you run away without so much as a glance backwards?
Nothing changed until you decided it should.
So give me just one reason, and make it a good one.

His mother abandon him.
Wasn't aware if his father  knew of him.
And many questioned, why a child's cried?

He see children's of his age laugh.
But in his eyes you see him depressed.
He pretend to be.
While he far from happy.
And a child cried.
Lingering for his mother's love.

He never knew her.
Mostly made up images of her.
Least when others asked him about her.
And a child cried.
Releasing the hurt he holds inside.

People speculate on his reasons.
Or states he's in need of medication.
But doesn't that says something about all of us.
As a child cried.

While hoping for a life of happiness.