On these nights I feel consumed
It's a terrible time to be alive
I wish I never existed
How shallow the emotions are
The happy don't make me happy
The sad don't ****
I mask the shallowness with tricks
It's fine to be assumed
How intricate to be unamused

On these nights I feel heavy
Consumed by the doubts and thoughts
Numbed by the explosions of emotions
The idiocy of rumors shining ******* the mirrors
It's not helped by overthinking
Creating holes and puddles that **** in
Souls and sleeps from within
How pretentious is this ruining

On these nights I say nothing
Moons come and go
Capture praise and envy
settling alone in the dark

Someday it will hurt you
Harder than it does today
More than you thought it would
You will not have much to say
The deeper you tear me down
The farther I'll take you to hell
The more it soothes your blood
The harder you will burn in there
Stop smiling and ignoring
For it does matter in both our lives
Let it pass now
But you will feel the warmth of fire
When my memories lit out the spark in your mind
And my touch seems like a reminiscing wine
Come closer and breath heavier
Cause it will take you down with ash
My memories will no longer sooth you instead
They will **** you silently
Watch out for all the scars you give me
I will return them back rightly

Day by day we cut our talks
word by word,
every day a word short
late night long chats
to one word nod
a sea of explanations
to a drop of glance

nothing more changes
except for the undecided timings
of hanging on the phone,
the unsaid goodnight
at the end of the chat
in the pool of thousands before,

Maybe we have learned to decipher the unsent messages
Maybe we have learned to read between the spaces
Because there’s so much for us to say
but we already know it all

I am crumbled like a paper with inadequate poetry and disowned words.
I am the bad poetry that you hear from an amateur. The one that lacks litery expertise. The one that doesn’t know enough metaphors. The one that fails to rhyme. The one with broken lines. The one that swallows millions stories into a line. The one that need more expertise to be understood than to express. The one that overspills yet fits into mouth just fine. The one you wouldn’t understand. Ever. The one I couldn’t explain to you. Never. The one you would probably hear and dislike at once.

The one that you would hate.

I am that peotry.  

That is short of a melody.

When I pull off those strangled lines
I try to hold right and tight my emotions
that I might lose one day
while having a cheap wine


my paragraphs were meant to sneak
inside your heart
and resonate the message I scream
for you to know what makes me fall apart

but some words are meant to be felt
not explained or
to make sense to either.
They exist just to exists
for the sake of a tear I lost while hiding in the washroom,
sometimes complimenting sometimes substituting

One day, the strangled words will make sense
One day, It will all be explained

Long after I am gone, untangle my words and talk to them.
They will talk to you.
I promise.

How much is

enough
too much

Or a pinch less?

There was hidden poet in there
filled with misery
concealed safely
behind the smile
tucked in tight
that looses itself at night
beautifying the misery of life
in rhymes and sonnets
calligraphed in blue and black
immortalizing the sorrow
on the sheets that shout in silence
through the words
that couldn’t help him
while
he was alive