The best thing keeping me up is the people who try to tear me down.

Our lips like sunsets
        holding on till that
last moment they set..

Releasing from the emotions,
that kept them aloft in motion
                         but as they part.

They await for when they arise,
         motions shine
                        on emotions.
                      eclipsing on another..

Slow breathing-
Taste the sol in perception,
Sensless as the fear grips,
A wry smile
In a confusion hung by mind:
The living room table is too small
But the grandiose thought
Kills joy scrolling
On a thousand beats,
Taking panic
Wherever the people roam,
Grazing on the mind,
Slowly melting summer
Cones,
Alone writing strength
On a page soaked in
A cold sweat

i.

i await
the sudden
awakening
of colour, in
the straw air
the clouds of
yellow flowers
wrap the
forsythia in gold.

ii.

the land is
ivy and moss,
thick-blades
of grass bend
in rain so
light that the
grass hardly
weighs down,

the rain is a
bare breeze

a time-surrendering
blossoming of air.

iii.

you said,
i love you
and it meant
more than i can
say and
i cried for joy.

iv.

boy, with your
brown eyes
dark with the
wild brooding shore,

your touch is
fire on my skin

and i brood too,
wilder than air.

v.

a bird sings,
sings of wilderness
and beauty
and that a heart
must be free.

the white
sheets of the
sky are still
in their mists.

the stars were trying
to impersonate
your eyes tonight,
and art is trying
to make someone
love you,
the stars and art
were so convincing
that it made me vow
to cherish you
like you are
the most expensive
piece of art
and the most
unreachable star
that ever existed.
(j.a.t.m)

I'm afraid.
That the feelings I hold
Will fall from my grasp.
I'm afraid.
Of saying those words
That if spoken,
Would vanish into thin air,
I'm afraid...
That the feelings I express,
Are feelings based on lies
That have been painted by myself...

These fears I have
I know are wistful,
Desiring and yet
Holding feelings fickle,
Wanting truth... and yet,
Comforting myself with lies tristful.

There are feelings I am afraid to voice.
If voiced, just like before,
They would lose their meaning.
That if spoken, they would just become
The past.

These feelings that I hold,
Are they lies?
Or has everything become a regret?
That if spoken,
If fulfilled,
Parting with it comes with ease

Imagination
Is
An
Dream
By
Humans
Yet


.

In our creed
An admirable conduct
Is fine
And consoling the vanquished
Is pleasant
Good intention
Is not adequate
In itself
What it requires
Is also a good deed