i cried today for the first time since i moved to the city

i cried on the subway

it was nowhere near as glamorous as the movies make it out to be
the lighting was fluorescent  
and a homeless man begged for change
the air felt stale and i could smell the banana a toddler was eating across the aisle from me

i don’t cry beautifully
the tears came out in a heavy stream
and stained the collar of my white t-shirt
i knew my carefully shaped eyeliner was already halfway down my face by the time we stopped at 14th street  

i cried today for the first time since moving to the city
it finally felt like my city

got to eat them as they darken
reddened ruby to black constant opal
berries will rot quickly if you don’t
or they’ll taste real gooey and wierdy
if you let the drupelets’ colors get
unsynchronized like summer and fall

...why am i telling you this?
because i learned that the hard way
and the days go away in the gleam
heavy showers and peak-a-boo sun
the east barely bracing for the storm
and the sweetness decaying like the leaves

keep your eyes closed love.

           e     t      
       m           i
    o                 m
s                        e  
                            s     all you have to
                                                                ­
                                                                ­ l                  is to what the sound
                                                           ­      i            n
                                                  ­                s           e
                                                               ­          t

                                                              ­                               v
                                                               ­                         a        e
                             ­                                          of the  w               s
                                                               ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­            tells  you
                                                                ­                                        to do.

Moon sleepwalks,
crashes head on the palms.
Hurls silver coins.


*

To respect you, I
will meet you here and there.
Will that do in dark?

*

Looking out at the
twilight, I would think of you,
in time, space and void.

Little softies, fret not to handle
The breakable dragonfly.
Who rode terrible, phterodactyle's
Arched swoop of blackening sky.

It's the color of her hair when I first meet her
The color of her cheeks when she laughs herself breathless
The color that beats harder in my chest when her similar shaded lips meet my own
The color of her dress on our first date
It's the color that stains my cheek after every evening with each other
The color of my dress when I walk down the aisle
The color I see when I look into her eyes and see our future painted out in front of us
But
It's also the color I see dripping from her words as a bottle of whiskey swings from her hand
Its the color that paints the skin under her drunken eyes
The color that glazes her eyes when she swings at me
Its the color that drips from my cheek and her ring
The color that paints my vision as I feel the words pour from my mouth like lava
The color that I hear when she slams the door
Its the color that drains away when she doesn't return

Let intensities
drop away -
leave chains
behind you.
A forest's
bathing sway
enough
to bind you.
Release the
dying day,
so stillness yet
might find you -
quiet start,
breathing's art.

Besos del alma,
Desde tus ojos bellos,
Me dejan encantada
Sin tener que mover tus labios.

I know you can hear me
I saw you in my dreams...
When you lived on the terrestrial plane
I think we both spoke different languages.
Both about love,
Just about different ways of loving...
................Just so you know..............
I love you so......
Even if before you turned to fine dust
You never really
Got to see and feel
The depth of my

          I      

    l  o  v  e    

  y      o      u     

Written
In the language you spoke.

You tend to me
in a way
no one else has before,
letting me grow
anew.

I let the sun
Give me freckles
So I coule share
A piece of sunshine
With someone in the dark

i anchor
myself
to the back
of your mind
you wish
me away
but here
i still linger

I'm fine
You go so far
Yet you still don't see my scars
The only thing you ask
Is because it's a painful task
So tell me
I'm fine

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 too *******.
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.

all my life
i've been preparing faces
to meet the faces that
i've met

friends
family
the man who delivers newspapers
at our doorstep each morning

i've laughed at their silly jokes
as they tossed their heads from side to side
in naive stupidity and their sheer ignorance
a pompous lot, the human race i tell you

i've acknowledged their staunch morals
and tried to make them my own
as they scorned at the girl in a skimpy dress
and chewed on mutton bones gluttonously

all my life, i've been trying hard
to blend in
with people who've shown me
that i don't belong with them

and tonight when i shed gallons of tears
i have only my bed and pillow to share
i've learnt that my sadness
is my very own

I guess im boring
I don't do what they do so no one cares
"you need to learn to live"
"you need to party more"
"put yourself out there"
they never love me for me,
they only love me for what they can make me

Mom asked me a simple question
'What do you want to be?'
So I answered proudly
'I wanna be an astronaut,
simply because I want to thank every each
of the stars and the galaxy,
for taking care of you and letting me have you
in my humble life'

His was the last word,
or words, if you count
his final outpourings.

His pen neat
there on every page,
written bitterly
as if venom
were his ink
to sour each line.

You read with tears
to wet the paper;
the words disrupted
in their own way,
your inner world.

You didn't answer
his last words,
you tore the letter
into small pieces,
and cast them
into the river
like so much confetti,
and I watched them
float and disappear,
each with a scornful tear.

cobwebs all around your ashy hair.
you smell alarmingly of evil and purity.  

I like when you graze my cheeks with both hands...
10 dainty fingernails slicing incredibly deep into my skin.

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.

Your touch was
e l e c t r i f y i n g

I feel it still
On my face
On my neck
On my arm
On my back

I can't even remember
What we said or
Where you touched, but
I feel it still,
And it was
e l e c t r i f y i n g —

boys look like boys
girls look like girls
boys look like girls
girls look like boys

people look like people

and that is all that I see

every single beautiful soul
worth living

especially the bus driver
who just flicked me off

she’s more deserving
than most.

I want to write about what hurts because I think it will
Stop me from hurting. If I put these words on
A page then they will be easier to digest.
Poetry isn't curative by creation, it is
Just confession. Still, these remedial
Lines are what I turn to when I am holding
Too much in my hands. Right now, I feel
Like I am overflowing onto the ground below me.
For the first time,
I don't want to write about what hurts. I want
To keep it inside of me and let it burn me. I want
To carry it in my palms for as long as I can.
I should write
About how we've said goodbye so
Many times that it turned into a threat, a weapon
We made with our tongues.
I should write
About how I lied and got away with it,
How you got caught with
Your hands tied and no one to blame.
I should write
About how it was over before we waved the white
Flag, and I know what it means now
To hold onto a sinking ship.
I've never had anything to die for.
I should write about how I've never wanted
Something so much that I devastated it completely.
We loved in harsh conditions, under sun and darkness and
I don't know how to write about how
The love didn't save us.
I don't write about letting go as much as I write about
Holding on, and I want
That to change.
I don't want to write hurt just to feel it.
The next poem I write about you will be
About me. About how I held on and how I let go.
It won't be about your love, it will be about
Mine. It won't stop me from hurting, but
It is how I make it out
Of my love alive.

It's all about
The attention you get
Not from poetry

That's a bath
of unmatching
Angst

Uncounted syllables
and unrhymed
utterances

Splashing about like
some lower form
of soul

Raisins are needed
to offset
your parched

Appreciation and
foregiveness
that suicide themselves

in that barren
self
you call home

under a cloudless sky
in this city of inconstancy
a perfect half moon
dazzles

the dark half
my tamasic nature
the bright half
your sattvic smile

forget not
any light thrives only
in the depth of intense darkness
cos my crepuscular complexion
alone absorbs thy fiery splendor

darling ambika!
having given
every pore to you
nothing remains

(to be continued....)

© 2019

when I was a child
There was a religious
camp counselor

a few miles away
I encountered hell daily
though

his door was always
Unlocked
but I

did not get there
In time
so I

was briefly orphaned
Then sent
to Utah