I feel like a remote.
A tiny remote in the hands of a giant
Toggling through channels
Accidentally pressing every other button than the intended
I have no control
I have lost sense of where I am in space
I am helpless
Vulnerable to the choices of the giant
Constantly fluctuating between states of fear
And peace
Never knowing when each state will change
Never knowing how long I will have peace
Before the fear arises
I am just a tiny remote
In the hands of a giant.

Just trying to get past yesterday before dismay leads me astray ,
Im struggling to get away from all these twisted games you play,
Its manipulation by interrogation it’s your medication for my segregation,
The explanation of your dedication is a demonstration of your reputation,
It’s mental torture,
Pure abuse that slowly tightens like a noose,
Its a pain that hides beneath the nights of tortured lies and vicious fights,
You have the power to articulate which allows you to intimidate,
But you manipulate to illustrate that I’m the one that’s ill of fate.
It’s survival in a hated state,
Using me as tempted bait,
You have to know it’s time to go,
Before it ends up being too late.

I asked you to stop,
You didn't.
You continued,
Purposely hurting me each time.
I wish you'd stop.
I wish you'd stopped a long time ago.
Why don't I just leave?
I should've done.
That would've been the smart thing to do.
But I can't,
Because no matter how badly I'm hurt,
I still love you.

what you see:
me, quiet and deadly still in a way that
i never am
staring into empty space or
at a blank wall. maybe i'm
counting cracks or cataloging creases.
you see me zone out—
such an airhead, that George is
i wonder what he's imagining

what i see:
ivory skin and hair as orange as
sunset, and she is as beautiful...
on the outside;
but on the inside, she is a
black hole.
she ****** me in
and i thought she was the light
at the end of the tunnel.
i must have been a traveller
stranded and thirsty in the desert
crawling towards mirages.
now i am helpless.

i am watching her line her legs with ink
as she tells me to make sure that she
doesn't line her legs
with blood.
meanwhile, i scratch deep
at an itch that isn't there
and call it catharsis.
i am seeing white tiles and
a translucent shower curtain and
a sink and soaps and everything is
normal—except the girl
sitting in a bathtub
naked without water
and bare skin has never made me feel more
ill.

what you hear:
ambient sounds.
my breathing, perhaps.

what i hear:
she hums like a Disney villain
brewing potions
and calling it tea. she looks
like a princess
but her words are witch's curses
and i'm hexed
under her spell,
hanging by a thread
to every word she's ever said
and somehow not noticing
the noose she looped around my neck.
darling, choke me
'til I can only breathe as well as your drowning lungs
as you gasp into your oxygen mask

what you see:
i'm having a panic attack.

what you hear:
i'm hyperventilating.

Kashmir Delirium

Oh People Of Earth! Thankful are we,
For each act of benevolence shown to us.
Your gilded sweet words describing,
The beauty of Kasmir, land and people.

Mention in books and talks of it's riches,
Naming it the Sweet Paradise Of Earth.
The Lord has been bountiful to Kashmir,
Treasure of resources in every sphere.

To elevate each aspect, our wish for life,
As every acre of this land is worth millions.
Full of treasures and recreational value,
Forestry with grandeur and silvery rivers.

The outside world's view is so limited,
Simple folks living in the lap of rich bounty.
Mentioned in world forums and organizations,
But what of the goal of giving us freedom?

What has The UN established in our name?
To measure the pain and anguish we bear,
At the hands, of our supposed benefactors.
The saviours who has us fractured.

But in reality they train their enforcers,
In the art of creating oceans of tears.
The red blood now hidden in camouflage,
The spent shells now gathered and hidden.

The leaders we are told to elect in electoral shams,
Run publicity kiosks and swell friend lists.
Joint conferences to address personal interests
Dialogues that never address the root issues.

Just the formalities and no sympathy,
For the ones burnt in cruel sadistic reprisals.
The hypocrisy continues deliriously unabated,
More augmentation of the security forces.

For a first hand view of deep hypocrisy,
Walk this land, you know as beautiful.
Religious leaders will teach you  political artistry,
Sermons full of ambiguity and guile.

Waywardness and narrow mindedness on display,
Political apologists give great lessons.
Religion and religious ethnicity are tools,
That keep minds and bodies in total check.

Gamesmanship by leaders is the rule of thumb,
As promises are forgotten once office is obtained.
When writing of this succulent beautiful land,
Write of the air, pregnant with sadistic practices.

This land is being stripped of worldly treasures,
And the greatest treasure is mistreated daily.
The best of nation is the inhabitants,
Ignored are the real gems of this beautiful paradise.

love is hard,
so tear stained faces
and dreams crushed beneath a falling sky
are not worth your time.

to experience screaming silence
and fingers that caress the world
and not you;
truth be told
put your trust in someone
      different.

pray that the path you tread upon
not be knocked from underneath you
because the harsh reality is
it will be, if you still choose the man
with the cold blood
that courses through his veins.

   sadly, coldness is all too familiar
    to you
     and it's what you like the
                                    most.