This is not my pen
Its borrowed
-maybe even stolen.

Don’t mark each mistake with your ever ready red pen,
For those mistakes – they are not mine.
They are not a careless flurry of laziness
It was it, twisting the pen.

Leave every full stop.
Every spelling mishap
Because I cannot see them.
It’s always in the f*in’ way.

A furious scramble of letters,
Caught torn on my tongue,
It tears at every syllable.
It steals my words and hurls them into the air.
So out they come
A mash, a mangle, a muddle.
But they were not my words,
They were stolen

acceptance of mystery
mystery of oneself
mystery of all others
the great mystery of all things
frees mind body and soul

Brother, this all you need
to know about my
life

I live near a river
where hawks
hover &

coyotes run past with
varments in
jaws

eaten-- fur, sinew
& bone

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

there are two types of sadness

there’s the kind of sadness
we ignore and
try to get rid of it
by finding new things to do
or we find someone to talk to
by blatantly avoiding any type of conversation
about feeling sad
about having any feelings at all
and then there’s that kind of sadness
that takes over
and it consumes any activity we do
we know it’s there
and there’s no possible way to avoid it
so we feed it exactly what it wants
it craves the sad music
it craves the isolation
it craves the anxiousness
and the sadness comes storming in
it has no manners
here we are calling sadness, an “it”
when all it is
is a feeling
that most people
call home

I'm sorry;
I'm a vengeful creature,
Unable to let it go,
Unable to even forget.

You broke all of me,
More than just my heart;
You broke my soul and will, too.

I don't want to be like her,
I want to be better,
But I'll worry about that later,
Forgive me, please.

It's your turn now,
I know I'm breaking all of you, too,
But at least I'm telling you,
Which is more than what you can say you did.

"I don't know."

shirtless screaming through
the heartland and I used
to smoke cigarettes
too.

she never wanted
to stay: the youth
she had
left demanded it.
now, I'll wager
she's somewhere
in an apartment with
some dandy that
wears sweater vests
to Thanksgiving dinner.

maybe she thinks
about me and my little
twisted heart every
now and again:
like when she's away
from the sweater vest
on the toilet
behind a locked door,
"be right out, babe!"
or toting groceries
through a parking lot
to her car,
or signaling a
left turn before
changing her mind
and deciding to
go straight instead.

and
maybe I need to
stop thinking
about her
especially after
three years
incommunicado

but what can I say?
I've never slept on
a bed of nails
I couldn't
dream on.

Your heart has grown cold,
This love is bad for my health.
I felt rejected, felt unwanted, felt unneeded so I,
Wrote a love letter to myself.

Every night at 3 am
I cry myself to sleep
I close my eyes
And wish I'd die
Before the morning comes

Every morning at 11 am
I cry when I wake up
'Cause when I open my eyes
I'm still on my bed
Breathing, but not alive

I can't get up all by myself
I wait for Mom to call my name
Does she know?
She doesn't know
That her dear daughter wants to go

I'd go through the day like a normal person
I'd pretend that I'm okay
But I'm still useless
My life's meaningless
Everything is still the same

'Cause the next night at 3 am
I will still cry myself to sleep
I'll close my eyes
And wish I'd die
But the morning would come again

I wasn't ready for you,
Wasn't ready for the pain,
Or the scars you'd leave behind,
That now seems in vain.

I am a fly
attracted to your nacreous glow.

                                           Just swat me already.

It's 11:11
and for the first time
after a very long time
I'm wishing for myself
and not for you

Invariably,
You prefer to come
To me in the dark.
"You're more my temperature then,"
You once said.
I'm not much of a thermometer,
But I am the eurythmy
To each syllable you give
In such settled shadow.
A play of murmurs and fingertips,
You once named this.
Always I see a wreath in your hair,
In colors of Persia,
Textures of night,
And the soft blended lines
Of you I know
Infallibly.

You are not the love of my life,
You are the life of my love ❤️

Smoking  
In the wind

If she
comes my way

I love her
cold embrace

I fear not
the flame

For all that
turns and coils

In a mind so young
yet tamed

All the thoughts That
linger in the background

If only she could
carry them away

i think that the most damaged people in the world
are the kindest
and the softest

because they know
that scabs can be picked
and you can bleed

Your presence
kills my Presence

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

In the deep corners of 3am,
I find her.

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

The emptiness in my eyes,
The truth behind my lies,
The fall before my rise,
And the goodbyes;

It scares me.

The dark beneath my skin,
The light within my sins,
The voice that loudly sings,
And my broken wings;

It scares me.

The wounds I can't heal,
The pain I can't feel,
The loss I can't deal,
And when I am real;

It scares me.

The silence in my little talks,
The stillness in my moonlit walks,
The thought of separate ways,
And my numbered days;

It scares me.

The demons under my bed,
The words spinning in my head,
The blood in my sweat,
And my cold breath;

It scares me.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj

Exiled to dusk,
Fractions of the sun
Begin to lift away,
In concealment
We shudder,
Casting our reels
Into a pond of uncertainty,
Clock hands bend
With advancing shadow,
And speak of time
Only in past tense,
I so want everything
I ever felt for you
Preserved for posterity,
Even should forever
Be far less than
We imagined.

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

Your love is a music box,
a melody that surrounds me;
it intoxicated me.

Love me now,
so that I can feel safe

Love me now,
so I feel complete

Love me now,
so all worries bid goodbye

Love me now,
so I won't be wanting things;

Things I can't have

Love me now,
so I won't be paranoid

Love me now,
so I can escape this everlasting winter snow

Love me now,
so I can be in your arms

Love me now,
so I won't feel like an empty vessel

Love me,
like those people with happy endings

Love me,
so I can feel warm

Love me now,
so I can breathe

Love me now,
so I can see

So I can live...
Yet I can't force you, not because I know that it is wrong
I'm just too tired now.

smoke rings
and bells do as well
and the lamb man's
got all the fleece
we are all gold in an egg-shaped sort of way
way on down the street

the good girl needs a bell
nevermind the ring
i ring my bells for that good girl's favor
ring your bell for the good girl's favor
the lamb man keeps his peace

Underhill
understanding
bells
toll now instead of ring
underhand and under thumb
under-way the lambs run
up and down the street

the wind blows through the leaves
leaving traces of where it's been
it's been down collecting lambs again
dew-run
up and down
the street

wash your wool
for the lamb man's leaving
wash your hands
he's gone
wash your hair
for the lillies blooming
blooming all along
all along
the street

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.