Fear,
you make my body quake
leave cracks in my esteem
and invite doubts
to harbor and fester as you
send a shiver down my spine
to drown my fire.

Fear,
you soak up all the syllables.
that I was to mutter
so I stumble
and stand there mute
with my stomach heavy with nausea.

Fear,
I take guilt bites
as I am lost in panicky howls.
while you lay out procrastination unevenly
and drink from the reservoir of my energy.

Fear,
you trick my potential
wipe out my credential
leave nothing but
raspy and rough remnants for me
to draw from.

Fear,
you rule the beats of my heart
pulling me out at the first hello.
you grip me,
whisper obscurely
whilst darkness grasps my sense
and wraps my dreams with dark matter.

Fear,
with you my my soul
remains parched like the desert,
and my brain wrecked with nervosity
as the sensation spreads across my body.

But Fear,
I want to be one step ahead
of you this time.
I don’t want my fate to collapse
beneath your decisions.

Fear,
I want to spell courage louder
than your stifling whispers
as I embrace opportunities
regardless of how daunting and risky you paint it to be.

I sat there like a museum of moments,
a mosaic of emotions
as she dissected my personas
and did an autopsy of my past.

Memories climbed my spine
from the forgotten attics in my heart
with every question, she asked.

But my tongue was a drought
and my voice box was a rust box,
as the child in me
was bullied into quietude.

My edgy, messy and raw memories
molded my perception,
rewrote my interpretation
and deepened my experience.

There was underlying vengeance
as the layers of fabricated scabs were scrapped
to disclose the deeply entrenched, tender emotional scars.

As the present, struck a cord
my limbs would turn into cement
as the echo would bring me back
to the endless street of time
and I would be dragged
through open wounds within me.

The pain would seep in the nooks
and crannies of my soul.
At every jibe and remark
one more part of my flesh
would be chiseled away.

The sky would join in my sorrow
as the clouds gathered like sheep
summoned by a shepherd
and then we would begin to weep
our unresolved issues
onto tissues.

I revisited the bathrooms
that became sanctuary in high school
with its gossip soaked walls
and tear-stained countertops.

I dream of the people
that have lost their way in my memory;
a fabrication of nostalgia.
But the tranquility of waves,
can’t even erase the memories of their wrongdoings.

My past engraved itself
into my muscle memory
ingrained its teachings
and matured my sensibility.

The dim shadows that would creep
And the blues that I would pour
are becoming budding flowers in my chest.

Weaving from the same web
I was entangled in
building from the same sorrows
I was drowning in.

I began connecting,
understanding its stem
stitching my memories.

I write for my younger self
who felt silenced and erased by the world.

I shape all the tainted pieces of memories
into art and paint shades of my past
as each is soaked in a memory.

I craft subconscious relief,
breathing memories
into 6 alphabets
that were strung into paragraphs,
beginnings and end.

I reached out to corners
to bring out
sunrises and sunsets
and reignite dying embers
as I de-spell the damage that silently reverterbrates through generation.

I find home in my skin
and love myself, whole;
Shadows, crevice and all.

The colors of your memory, you can no longer contrast as they swirl into one another.At times they are vibrant as though you are vividly living them experiencing them,and at times they are dull as though they have faded and been acid washed.

Your past slips into the present and present slips into the past. Some days you love me;as though it was the first time you are holding me in the palms of promises. But there are days when my name never slips your tongue and I am a mere stranger to you.

The memories are no longer stored in your mind, but on gigabytes that I have to play – that has become your storage and retrieval. Your memory has become pixelated, but you can no longer remember them as though it was your own.

Some days you’re on a carousel of memories in your mind; revering and your tongue has forgotten its language. At times you speak eloquently, but at times they are stars that are unlinked and lost. You used to weave constellations but now it’s difficult to put in a thread into the needle.

Thread of your memories begins to wear and the tales woven through ancestry fray with details as the world slips away and the thread unwinds. You try revising the tales, but the thinning at ends of your recollection slowly fades.

The scent infused with ambiance sends echoes of familiar places, resulting in you having spasms of remembrance while the flutters of moth wings beat at the edge of your mind.

There are days when you become a shell of yourself, as your pupils remain fragments detached from reality. I watch you as you wind yourself back in front of my eyes. Ebbing and flowing, freezing and releasing; trying to make sense of the confusion and panic that riles in your mind.

Though you feel, your stars are growing cold and feel like an ethereal that has collapsed, your smile is still the brightest star in the furthest galaxy. It is made of combustion of crimson blue yonder and candy hues.

Though your palms are dreams wrinkled dry, and your memories are falling like baby tooth, as the color of your speech is bleached and you frantically scavenge for memories to ground and make sense - I’ll be there to hold your scattered mind with patience and love you the days you won’t remember me as your own

At the age of 10,
I enter a world manipulated by a smooth console
with knobs to weave myself into a different skin
level up with every ****,
and move with a certain skill.
At the age of 12,
I open a world stacked on my shelf.
Some world lying there parched like the desert,
accumulating dust and letting its texture fray away.
Whereas some lie there with their syllables
paving roads to adventure
and intoxicating the air with its tropic odor.
At the age of 14,
I scroll myself into another world;
where vision is pixelated
and lighting is perfect.
Instagram and Snapchat are the societies that exist,
ranking your position with the followers you keep.
Endorphins are the taps you receive
and filters are what you apply before you leave.
At the age of 16,
I pick up the VR goggles
and sleep under lucid rainbows
and a different constellation.
Everything is under my control,
the timezone;
a stimulation that feels so real.
At the age of 18,
I meet people of different hues,
discovering new worlds in them.
With different nations weaved on their skin,
and composition of carbon, nitrogen, spice and sweet ever so different in them.

A curtain drawn on the sun;
A summer storm pouring down.
Gale of winds brush past
making you lose your breath.

Emotions start to rile  
Thoughts start to pile
letting your words become vile
as tears start to flow down.

The fog settles
as the mind rages
and bones
start to feel uncomfortable
in your skin
as the swallowed air
seems to be too thick.

During those days
some just want to curl up in a ball,
take cover
and watch laughter evoking shows
to get you through.

Some want to
fight through the storm
trying to hold on to
the bleak of glimmer
that maybe there.

Some find comfort
in the presence of others
letting them be their crutch
and drink their potion of love.

Some just want to
cry a river nile
letting sadness trail down their cheek
to let it all out.

Some remain in the
black silences
falling apart to the rhythm of solitude
as the black matter multiplies
and they implode
falling back into the abyss.

- Beautiful Sensitive Soul

When you lay there
thinking your life does not matter,
every exhalation meaningless
every unfaltered lub dub wasted.
Go out there
and make a difference in someone's life.

Help,
be compassionate
give yourself a sense of purpose.

Because it is then
when you will breathe life
into your life.

When you will find
yourself grounded and rooted
rather than swaying like the wind
and allowing time
to slip like grains of sand unnoticed.

Allow fluffy clouds
of magical wisps
to fill your head
and propel you forward
to fill you with color
and life.

So choose to bring peace and joy
to someone else and yourself
for you will not be just be surviving
but bringing significant difference
in your own beautiful way.

Absorbing the pain
letting nothing spill.
I feel the alluring darkness
enwrapping me with its wings.
Overriding my words
by the whispers in my head;
making me push people away
to keep them at bay.
I guess this is how darkness wins
by telling you to keep it all
to yourself.