*
*in the swollen grass
there is wither-month
upon which the brutes
come and find shelter
hewn in shape
of grief
moth-bitten maps
torn in halves
theirs the flesh
of seasons
ripened canaille
of shorn sculptures
bruised fingers
that say
"there is no meadow"
as though harvest
pours in spring
and sparrows spiral
in salted hymns
so shall the night hour
wilt the porcelain moon
hung against the
slivered brume
gathering quietude
on the shelves of the
shepherds*
*
Jul 21, 2025
Jul 21, 2025 at 3:20 PM UTC
*
*there are ghosts
on the roof again
they whisper
through leaking vents
and broken antennas
perfumed rot
and cheap whiskey
spill from the sink
the strays sing elegies
to the moonlight
that never comes
TV static hums
like a low prayer
in a godless chapel
we scratch
our names
on telephone poles
like saints
begging to be believed
in alleyways
children paint murals
of uncanny valleys
fables
wear labels
and reach
for Abel’s throat
every lie
is someone’s faith
even the stars
have turned
to watch
but you don’t
need eyes
to read the ruin*
*
Jul 19, 2025
Jul 19, 2025 at 8:05 AM UTC
*
*when I was losing
my mind
and the walls
crashed into the sky
no one noticed
it was painted
in my eyes
just a whisper
until the storms
came knocking
a quiet, steady
decline
while I was losing
my mind
and no one
noticed
I built a castle
from empty bottles
they said
I was too much
said I was pretending
to be blind
not focused enough
to meet the deadline
to gather clothes
and new obsessions
you’re only as good
as your possessions
bury your truth,
your soft confessions
there’s no such thing
as depression
pay attention
to all the lessons
you’re just prose
with no direction
try harder
to make connections
six months
of a better you
will fix the last
twenty
pick better hobbies
and a real profession
maybe they’ll invite you
to be part of the collection
God knows you need
better company, some
standard corrections
with all the mayhem
and recession
it's so hard to
be special
don’t you watch
the news?
you’re only as good
as the things you buy
buy that red dress
you always wanted
and maybe
just maybe
you’ll be enough
for someone
to notice*
*
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 4:23 PM UTC
*
*I shall begin this letter to you by writing about myself, obviously, this is as much about you, as it is about me, and that is who I am at times, selfish and caught in my own self but again—this is as much about you as it will be about me, if not more, and I hope it is—I hope that is how I write it, and that is what comes at the end of it.
I rarely remember things, names and places.. I suppose it is because I'm just forgetful and lame but maybe it's because nothing lingers around me enough, settles and finds a home.. finds me as I am—I don't like looking somebody eye to eye, I fear they'll recognise I'm not who I am, see me bare and without my flesh and bones and shadows that hang around me.
But I can look you in the eye without fear of any undoing, I can be myself for a little while, I can let go of the shadows and let my scars and wounds breathe for a little while.. they only know four walls of a room, and they do not see the sky.. but sometimes, most times, I know I can let them in the open with you, safe and guarded.
I respect you, I respect that you laugh with the deepest wounds, I respect that you feel deeply, I respect that you are genuine and that you never stop trying, even if sometimes you cannot see all of this in yourself, and I hope you do, because that is you and that is what I've seen too.
You remember me, in a world that does not know I exist, You are kind to me when you have every reason not to.. and as I said, I don't remember much.. but I remember, deeply, every single time when someone has looked at me, and asked me 'you're sad today aren't you?'
We all need a shoulder to cry on when the world feels heavy and the winds are merciless, I never had a shoulder or even if and when I did, I had to tiptoe around my own tears and whirlwinds inside of me, but you've been more than a shoulder, or an arm or a voice cutting through the dark.. you've been a friend, a soldier, a rock and a pillar... on days when there is nothing, and I'm sinking.. and the world is folding into itself.. I know I'll have a friend just a call away and everything would stop spinning for a moment and more.
If I can be half as good of a friend that you are to me.. I'd be a much better person, that is how good of a friend you are, because that is a part of you, a part that you know well but maybe do not trust enough to see the sky.. you should let it out more, more laughter, more conversations, more of everything, and less of me, a lot less of me, because that is who I am—just four walls and deep darkness, and you deserve the sun and sunsets and people who laugh and are better friends and people.
It is not a declaration of me not wanting this friendship, I am your friend, and I shall be one, as long as I am, because that is the least I can offer with what I am owed to you, and I owe you a lot, a lot of things and gifts and letters and what not.
Thank you for being my friend, a candle in the darkness, a forest in this barren land, monsoon in the summers and a warm blanket in the winter.
You give me hope, and that is all I have to say for now.
to dearest,
you, my friend.*
*
Jun 24, 2025
Jun 24, 2025 at 1:24 PM UTC
*
*don’t let the light
find its way to me—
not yet.
I’ve spent all my strength
making love to the dark.
let it hold me
a little longer.
let it nest in my lungs,
curl through my veins.
let it grow inside me
until I’m ready
to feel again.
let the rain
find my tears,
and the clouds
search for my name.
keep the door
closed.
I want what burns in me
to escape at dawn—
in flames.
don’t let the light
come searching.
let it all
grow wild in me.
until nothing
remains*
*
Jun 16, 2025
Jun 16, 2025 at 12:33 PM UTC
*
*Dil tu kyun ro raha hai
Jo hona tha, woh ** chuka hai
Dil tu kyun ro raha hai
Jo khona tha, woh tu kho chuka hai
Ek kona hai bas ab tera
Wahin pe raat, wahin tere din
Wahin har saans ko aankhon se gin
Jo hona tha, woh ** chuka hai
Dil tu aakhir kyun ro raha hai
Tera tha khula asmaan
Teri hi thi naadi, teri vaadiyaan
Tera hi toh tha yeh jahaan
Tujhka tujhse hi tha imtihaan
Aur tu na jaane kya khoj raha tha
Tu kahin toh pahunch raha tha
Ek kona hai bas ab tera
Wahin ab teri har arz sunsaan
Wahin ab dafan har karz, har toofaan
Khud ko khud se hi bhool raha hai
Ab toh veerane mein bhi tu doob raha hai
Tab se ab tak khud se hi jhoojh raha hai
Kya ab bas ek kona hi hai tera?
Dekh, wahan ek phool khila hai
Tere aansuon se seencha
Woh tujhse pooch raha hai —
Tu kyun ro raha hai?
Jo hona tha, woh ** chuka hai
Jo khona tha, woh kho chuka hai
Ab bhi hai asmaan
Ab bhi woh naadi, woh vaadiyaan
Ab bhi hai yeh jahaan
Tera hi tujhse imtihaan
Tu kya soch raha hai
Sunn zara murshid kya bol raha hai
Kya bas ab ek kona hi hai tera?
Tujhko toh tera Khuda khoj raha hai
Ja, main hoon yahan —
Teri zameer, tera armaan
Teri kami, tera gunah
Tera nazeer, teri panah
Ja, main hoon yahan
Main hoon yahan.*
*
Jun 12, 2025
Jun 12, 2025 at 8:34 AM UTC
*
*someone will remember us
before we're forgotten—
a final ache of memory
lingering
willing itself
to survive
like laughter
like the pain
like summers spent
in the arms of rain
someone will remember us
for who we were
and all we
never became
someone will remember us
though we’ve forgotten ourselves
with no trace left
to mourn
just dust gathering softly
on photographs kept
in a home long forlorn
someone will remember us
someone will remember us
someone will remember us?*
*
Jun 11, 2025
Jun 11, 2025 at 9:09 AM UTC
*
*the city’s out cold
the moon cries
like it knows something
I don’t
phone rings—
I let it die
what’s left to say
we haven’t already killed
with silence
I’ve felt
everything
too many times
the cogs keep spinning
do more
be more
become less
until you’re
someone else
we work
we run
we laugh like it’s medicine
we forgive what we shouldn’t
forget what we can’t
always waiting
for something
that never shows up
do more
be more
end up
less
less sleep
less soul
less of whoever
you used to be
you wake up
in someone else’s
skin
every breath
spent
dumped
into some black hole
like maybe it’s listening
washed down
with cheap whiskey
and cigarettes
that stick to your fingers
work
run
pretend
we laugh
when we’re dying
it’s better for
company
makes it easier
to sit with people*
*
Jun 4, 2025
Jun 4, 2025 at 3:01 AM UTC
*
*the kinds of
sorrows
nested in the
arms of Oizys
soaked in a cloak
of severance
circling the roads
to Nazareth
praying, preying,
pretending
watching the sun
kiss the moon —
the last act of
devotion
before the sun
sets
and we’re all
silent again*
*
Jun 1, 2025
Jun 1, 2025 at 2:56 AM UTC
*
*letting go
of the sun, the moon,
and the stars.
drifting through quieter skies,
faintly vivid,
testing the waters
that never held me.
am i a free bird,
or just dust
in the wind?
to let go
of yourself—
the kind of sorrow
that keeps me awake;
the child
who never slept
or smiled,
still knocking
on the door
i buried
long ago.
how do i tell
him
there is no place
where sleep remembers us—
only roads
we walk
until the sunset
swallows
what’s left.*
*
May 27, 2025
May 27, 2025 at 12:56 PM UTC