It's feverish, no fever dreams
need me some liquorice, no liquid means
fame, money, power same as fiendish grins
one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, four
I don't dream no, no more.
and none of us seekers
It's a trap with no victors
No Role Modelz either
Don't save her
and leave her
be here
-Asher Graves
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 4:32 PM UTC
Neither can you fathom my presence
(original Na Tum Hame Jaano by Hemant Kumar)
-Translated by Pulak Patra(Asher Graves).
Neither can you fathom my presence…,
nor can I unravel your essence...
But it seems,
as if I have,
found myself a companion.
Neither can you fathom my presence, nor can I unravel your essence.
But it seems, as if I have, found myself a companion.
These seasons, these nights they stay silent.
These words, reverberating in your lips, they stay silent.
The silence now narrates a fable unforeseen.
These seasons, these nights they stay silent.
These words, reverberating in your lips, they stay silent.
The silence now narrates a fable unforeseen.
Eyes have now become the tongue of the heart.
Neither can you fathom my presence, nor can I unravel your essence.
But it seems, as if I’ve, found myself a companion.
Verily, our stance on the crossroad of love led,
The rendezvous for everyone we once met instead, We now carry the caravan of drifting beating hearts, homestead
Verily, our stance on the crossroad of love led,
The rendezvous for everyone we once met instead, We now carry the caravan of drifting beating hearts, homestead
On a voyage now go those two,
And nobody, could ever know, where to.
Neither can you fathom my presence,
nor can I unravel your essence.
But it seems,
as if I have,
found myself a companion.
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 1:30 PM UTC
Personal Experience defines a person.
Irrespective of beliefs, motifs, teachings.
A single story to tell, a fable felt, is enough.
Your goodness, virtues, methodologies
All bake a tough conundrum.
All create a fake memorandum.
All boast of catching lightning in a bottled state.
All ensure the storm will pass away.
All encapsulate a moral sentiment.
All curate an impossible stage.
All they trying to do is impersonate.
All you do is try to relate.
Alls you could reach is but a surface level veil.
All of these when you could have just asked straight!
How are you doing?
Here come have this hug, mate.
I got you like you got me.
Please do hesitate.
Have some tiny faith.
This too will go away.
Tragedy is there for one to evaluate.
It's not an iterative for one to try to relate.
It's a natural mechanism that follows a strange fate.
Its a flow state.
As strange as gravitational waves.
Like schrodinger's Cat
Understand it.
Feel it.
But don't relate.
I say so because experiences differ
Yet they bring you to the same place.
Starting and ending are the same place.
Think about this.
Think fore you sway.
And don't forget
Personal Experience defines a person
Not the other way!
-Asher Graves
Apr 14
Apr 14, 2026 at 7:06 AM UTC
A lie I look up to like
A sigh that leaks from
A height I wish for
A place where dreams form
And I feel stronger than King Kong
The games are again fun.
Stargazing on weekdays cause it felt wrong
Like the nature's silent mourn
I fear even this not bein' the norm.
I need to feel something,
to feel some things,
Just to feel something.
anything.
But I'm twisting it.
Reality morphing delusions
fed to a bubble dream
wish I could just win.
One win isn't a sin.
But the fragile mirror keeps breaking!
-Asher Graves
Mar 5
Mar 5, 2026 at 6:43 AM UTC
It's efficient to erase
But your silhouette remains.
Your character doesn't faze
Your demeanour makes me sway
Hey, waves!
How come you never stay?
Your touch evokes a presence
Like a present
You fill me with essence
I feel more competent
Quickens my breathing
Like a Spartan combatant
Vibrant like a flower
In the Eden
Black Hole Sun to my Soundgarden
Like a prisoner got pardoned
You bring out my reason
To live for you,
My freedom
Gaze of legions
Yet you saved the heathens
Sippin' on chlorine
I dared to treason
To reach you,
My Destination
My grief was palpable
For hesitation was in motion
Time's notion favoured
Fate's recon
And like a fever
She vanished
And it hurt
Like Nine Inch Nails
Her presence was nostalgic
Even when we were strangers
Almost familiar but totally surreal
Hypnotic voice, flawlessly adhered
I wish you were here
Not a page
But a book
With me as your seer,
My Dear
It pains me to let her go
I stayed until I couldn't bear
Fate, I won't blame you so
Time just stay there
For what evoked
Was love in full adherence
A taste of something forbidden
Like the fruit from the Garden of Eden
Now this memoir of your presence
Basks my mind in a mask of confusion
What once felt so enigmatic in essence
Drains me dry like hydrophobic substances
In order to apprehend it
I relapse into the same dilemma
That
It's efficient to erase
But your silhouette remains
-Asher Graves
Mar 2
Mar 2, 2026 at 1:00 PM UTC
I dreamt of bein' a cool kid
wrapped in clouds
above all scrutiny
I used to be happy
filled with the fizz of life
Refreshment so high
Even smelling salts were dull and shabby
I wish to turn back time
a stupid little fantasy
I wish to relish that time
so what if it's a fantasy
If it can make you happy,
A solution, a remedy
I'd boldly embrace it
regardless of scrutiny
Mar 1
Mar 1, 2026 at 8:26 AM UTC
Chapter 4: Won’t Back Down
What folly is this, Vessel!
Must I watch you fall down in trenches
Like a ghost haunting the branches,
Like a Geist dissolving in the mist.
Such spiralling chain of thoughts,
condescending tone of preaching,
vexing art of discreet sabotage!
Your obsession with loathing
Is beyond my understanding
Can you fathom the gravity of this?
Lamenting over the fact that you are not worthy of me?
On what assumptions are you proposing this convoluted theory?
Are you perhaps not on the right footing?
Trapping yourself in the mazes of maybes.
Awestruck, I stand-for how convincing you can be.
If not for these cursed dignitaries, I’d be but a whisper and you a shrine without a god.
Vessel. Oh, Vessel.
You are not broken and beat.
You’re just tired and stripped.
You don’t reek of sycophancy.
You’re hurt in too deep.
When you speak FEAR.
You speak of truth.
For what is truth if not pain in disguise.
Few understand it for it dwells in plain sight
One could argue that’s a proper disguise.
And for pain to unveil the veil of truth.
You first must lose.
For,
Pain is inevitable, but not the worst that there is.
The abyss distorts the truth but not concepts.
Thus, I ask of you again
Won’t you let go of this madness?
Won’t you open yourself to me?
To let it shimmer down and SCREAM!
Quixotic penitence is like chivalry, seldom seen
The Heritage that gleams, one that no one’s ever seen!
Don’t invalidate heights one aspires to be!
And if you’re so pathetic to leave them then-
Beseech me with your soliloquies!
Must I repeat myself, Vessel!
Must you relinquish in catharsis self-pity?
Must you be a victim for the world to see?
Must tragedy be what you perceive?
Must that be what you need?
Must you, bleed?
What more must you desire?
A linchpin? A nieve? A fire? A twig?
A passage that leads to valour?
Fame of a messiah?
A bard’s lyre?
Anything you want
I can grant thee
But
How derisory of you to cave in!
Not all that is visceral should bear meaning.
Non-Verbal pleas. Partially traversed lanes.
Stubbornness and zeal are two different states.
One paves the path, one leads astray.
Forfeiting will only intensify the quakes.
Breaking what’s broken.
Therefore, I say.
United in Grief.
Unified to create.
That’s what we ought to do.
Not just a symphony of lines,
But a meaningful line must we pursue
As the delegate. As the Keeper in place.
As the Herald. As the Witness of grace.
Starring you — “The Vessel”
And I — “The Voice.”
The Yin-Yang of this melody called Life.
The Perfect sage!
Chapter 5: Elicitation of Rainy days
The Vessel nodded silently to the voice.
Not resisting. Not opposing.
Just silence
what follow through
was nothing new for a mere object
Plethora of such moments existed.
The vessel recalls of times
It was promised of grace
And each time it dared for a reach.
Fate would roll the dice
And all one could hear were the screech,
Screams and sounds described as outrage,
Out of bound voice that dared to raise,
Tried to disrespectfully erase,
Furthering the gaps of understanding
Or
so, the dignitaries say!
It pleased the dignitaries
When the vessel was played
Chipping away at his existence
Like the sea coming back to bay
While preaching of being kind
And keeping it a buck-shot
In the life of Cobain
Yet not a voice raised,
At the cruelty that was silently displayed.
Until it showed the signs of breaking away
Talking back became his routine
Venom in the tongue, Poison in veins
The dignitaries felt annoyance
Yet couldn’t denounce his stance
For it’d hurt their pride.
Their pride of acting Great
Unlike them it was incomplete
So, they just mocked away
at his misery and pain
But it’d not break the vessel
So, they devised a ploy
For their ultimate joy
Even Frey would condemn
Its every phrase.
They became “kind” to the vessel
Like they are to the waifs
Much to the vessel’s dismay
They pitied his situation
In an almost mocking way
The vessel was confused
But couldn’t stay mute
They grinned a little
“a little more” monologue says
His anger grew so violent.
“I” felt heavy.
“Him” felt like a glaze.
With each loss of identity.
The vessel finally cracked away.
Him became it.
A mere object now lives in his place!
The vessel declines once again.
For Uncertainty grew issues of trust.
Every inch of it was filled with hurt.
Neither hope lingered nor growth spurt.
A nod of denial
An eye that’s deeper than the black sea
And if left unseen
This unforeseen event could be a bad decision
Lost in between, rapturing too livid to end the mission
The change in scenes, there must be a valid solution!
Chapter 6: Escalating shenanigans
For someone close to annihilation
You’re way too dramatic!
I ask you a question
You frown and act whimsical
Then answer with nuisances.
So, what if you’re broken and beat.
I never asked you to be perfect.
Tragedy isn’t yours to cave in.
Monologues longer than science fiction
Would you, just listen to me,
For a second, and stop thinking!
Obscure thoughts are incremental
Normalcy feels haunting.
Distress in the air, the crown feels mental
Loss of oxygen, the air to the throne is not seen!
While romanticizing grief isn’t a bad thing.
Submerging in the past means, eating an orange peel
While leaving the fruit as is!
Still not convinced?
Let me put it in a way
Easier for understanding
See there’s this strange empty void
Use it as a bin for storage
Take some inventory
Put it out and see a ford engine, door hinge, syringe, an orange, an extension cord, a ninja sword, not to mention four linchpins, an ironing board, a bench, wrench an attention sore!
Absurd isn’t it?
Fiddling with past is a tough conundrum
An enigma well foreseen
The more you try to grasp it
Vessel
The farther it takes you with it.
An endless pursuit
A start without a good ending.
Words could only do so much
And time doesn’t wait to barge in.
So, like it or not here I come.
The voice entered the vessel
The vessel tried denying the stranger
But it was too late for the rumble
For it gave a weak struggle
Even an object craves danger
If it means change is plausible
Regardless of what comes
the awkwardness of vessel
is ruining the outcome.
Stay tuned for the final encounter!
Chapter 7: Kintsugi
The vessel’s nervousness filled the room
Its eyes were shut but then came a colour
It was silent then came a breath
It was antsy but it felt more.
The longer the anticipation grew
The nauseous it felt.
Like how the tree feels
During the peak of spring
When life’s in the air
And it’d survived Autum’s rot!
But unlike the tree this object felt
More than what meets the eye
A pure transformation!
A genuine being!
The vessel felt lively after a rather long voyage
The lone vagabond finally caught the crimson moon.
It had never felt this feeling.
The utter joy was breath taking!
It called for the voice but the voice did not answer!
It tried again, still not a single phrase of that pompous annoyance!
The vessel grew anxious and kept calling to no avail
The voice was gone; the vessel was alone in the sail.
Though it had been granted a chance of the holy grail
Of life and experiences none has ever seen nor lived to tell
This is the beginning of a longer tale but
It began to rain
Almost godly for the gods seem to sympathize
With the vessel’s sorrow
Thus, granting rain as a company
This time hollow won’t be the symphony
It down poured heavy
A puddle was seen in front of the dummy
The vessel saw its reflection and laughed
It said, “I see”.
Like kintsugi the voice mended the vessel with good intentions.
The price? It’s own existence!
Though the voice was gone
It left behind a legacy.
The vessel.
Now starring “himself”
Albeit late in the scene
In the vast stage of life
Performance matters more
Rather than just being promising!
-Asher Graves
Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 9:31 AM UTC
Chapter 1: The Separation
How much longer?
How much further?
How much pain can you still render?
How much can you take of this slander?
A vessel is called a vessel for there’s a limit to wonder.
Can you not feel the thunder? The fright and the shudder!
I’m the poet, you’re the vessel!
I’m the voice and you’re the ember.
This is separation after the deep slumber.
Chapter 2: Resuscitation
Long I have watched the madness, the pain.
Shall I act more violently to ease the strain?
How gullible of you to fall for a paltry trick!
A voice is a concept, a mere imitation
Without a vessel there’s no invocation.
But with you as the body
Me being your majesty, the ember
A silent revolution brews
Colder than the heart of December
You’re the Quasar in this void.
Among the masses, along with classes
A perfect vessel appropriate for this mighty voice.
Shatter the chains of fate flamboyant by nature like
the serpent emerging from its scales!
Embrace my high self
And set yourself free of covenant
‘tis but merely the genesis of the revenant.
Chapter 3: Boulevard of Broken Dreams
The vessel responds to the impatient voice.
Like the wind that breezes through past midnight
The vessel speaks, “Oh voice of the past remanent!
The voice that many sought.
What brings you to the doorstep of such an insignificant vessel whom nobody trusts?”
There’s nothing but ruins and torment in this vessel’s path.
Unfortunate, that you’re bound to this vessel for your bidding to last.
But it’s not too late to seek the one you deserve the most.
I humbly ask thee to forsake this mundane vessel.
For it is fractured beyond hope.
Once it was radiant with virtues,
beaming with glee
Tempering circumstances with nuances,
But sky is the limit
The rapture was devastating
The dignitaries called it mercy
But “It” was down to “it’s” last legs
Begging for a chance
If not then maybe just a plea?
Now the rest is history…
Ambition was once something to this vessel.
But reality is rather unnerving.
The Boulevard that stretched beyond any limits.
Now harbours its guilt and regret.
The broad pathway is no longer feasible for greater themes.
The vessel drifts in a subtle melancholy yet refrains to complain a thing.
For the vessel’s encapsulated in
The Boulevard of Broken Dreams.
-Asher Graves
Feb 22
Feb 22, 2026 at 9:30 AM UTC
One Spring fortnight
At the edge of thoughts, I leaped.
Noises linger but go static,
When I look at the Blossoming Mango Tree.
The gaps I failed to adhere, raptures that readily appeared.
Remains an unclear seer, Sings of time that wasn't there.
And lacks the gall to stand clear.
Like a building forcibly engineered
It rots, decays, wilts and smears
Like when you're consumed by fear
and hoisting your opinion isn't a choice
Vanishing into the thin air soothes the voice.
Like a paper ablaze in the heat.
Struggles, arguments, disruptions cease
Solemn silence whispers to please
But apologies stage distant discrepancy
Thus stagnant becomes scenery
A sanctuary that seldom weeps
Staring at the sky
From Earth's POV
Like a vagabond
Paddling away into the sea
Birds start to chirp
Animals squeal in the breeze.
Spring has come and it brings life
But this time
This time I don't fear its reach.
Sunlight feels like home
Home that's warm
Not toxic
For every time I feel nauseous
I look at the same Blossoming Mango Tree.
Perfection demands attention
For me it's a reprieve
But this time
I feel a colder breeze
When I look at the Blossoming Mango Tree.
And I crumbled away at the sight of it
The only thing that kept me in glee
I feel abandoned, absconded by happiness
Where I see now lies a brazen Mango Tree.
If only I had cherished myself enough
I wouldn't be so broken and beat
If I could've just laid it upfront
I wouldn't greet you with goodbyes
If I were brave I wouldn't have
Fallen into tragedy.
Turmoil-filled narrative
Teetered my hopes bleak
Thus, I mourn at the once Blossoming Mango Tree.
I smile at gods while
Tears sprang down my cheek
For I was the witness of
The wilt of once so vibrant tree.
I stand on the precipice of defeat
Unwavering at the pedestal of thoughts
Spiralling in my mind like calligraphy
But a fool I was not
For I couldn't see
Understandable
Since nobody taught me
Good things don't stay
So what! You made a mistake
Learn from it, never retaliate!
Create your persona, earn your place.
The tree fell lifeless
But
A new life grew in its stead
and Now I get what life means.
So this Spring too, I wait for thee
My Dearest Blossoming Mango Tree.
-Asher Graves
Feb 15
Feb 15, 2026 at 2:29 PM UTC
Relentless wanders,
and restless nights—
I call my subconscious
for a chat,
but that dummy never arrived,
only left
fragmented clues
in my dreams.
When I wake up,
my consciousness
sweeps me clean.
Label me greedy mean
for getting dreams—
that’s a story
seldom seen.
I finally get
how an immortal feels.
— Asher Graves
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 7:40 AM UTC