Bottles of alcohol should be labeled "False Hope",
Because they are no more than a method to cope.
You drink one down, pass it around, and get lost in it all.
But back down to Earth you'll eventually fall.

Once back to the surface, you gather a new means.
Of getting to the levels shown on the silver screens.
You get yourself high, but it all ends the same.
You're floating alone, sifting through all their blame.

"A car wreck sound lovely", you say to yourself.
As you pull out the blade and harm your health.
Your silent cries have fallen on empty ears.
It is the final product of your greatest fears.

You found a revolver in your parent's drawer.
Ready to claim the casualty of an internal war.
"They won't miss me at all" you truly believe.
But I'll still be here, alone and left to grieve.

In the vociferous world, silence takes a backseat
Loud pompous etiquette takes the centre stage
Words, weighed with utter *******
Seems to find a very patient hearing from every circle
It’s a domino effect, where one by one falls in line
Lines so wobbly, as the words have very little shelf life
People mesmerized by the pomp and the fragility
Silence is just a silent spectator,
Watching the whole world participating in dissemination
Of the hollowed idioms and phrases
But silence is strong enough to hold its ground
Having a quiet laugh and waiting for redemption
Till that time, the power of silence is acquired by few


© Amitav (Radiance)

I wonder if you’d want to know
I named all of my demons after you and
they haunt me in my sleep

when I was 14 I fell asleep in April and dreamed of bones and
I’m not sure I’ve really ever woken up since

when I lost 5 pounds I never saw a difference

when I lost 10 my mother said I was looking good

when I lost 20 she told me to stop and handed me food
and I became anemic

when I lost 25 I stopped drinking anything because
I felt water had calories

when I lost 30 my mother held me on her lap
and held my bones together for me

when I lost 35 I started fainting every morning and
the doctors could no longer easily find my blood pressure

when I lost 40 people started to stare and food made me cry

when I lost 45 it hurt to walk and to lay down
it hurt to eat
it hurt to breathe and
I started throwing up my empty stomach

the mind plays tricks on those that decide
nourishment is not needed

Eat.

Nightmare number nine.


I dream of Utopic world,
A world without sins and crime,
Without a shout or cry,
No ghosts haunting the nights,
Will that world sustain?
A world with no pain..
A world so perfect,
That you wouldn’t enter in it again.
.


Ironic, I laud sadness,
I call a beautiful dream a nightmare..
Weird sounding thoughts, weird creepy madness!
But a day needs a night, a night needs a day,
To get more closer, one needs to be away..
So, how will it sustain?
A world with no pain…
The world without paradoxes, a world without mistakes,
A world so perfect, that it gets too close to be a fake.

How a good is good? If there is no conflicting bad?
How can one be happy? Without once being sad?
So, when everything is perfect ,
When everything is fine,
I know that I have entered in my nightmare number nine.

like a fish out of water
walking backwards upstream
grand illusion of compliance
buying nothing sight unseen

respecting their essence
detached from their path
connected in spirit
repelled by all wrath

norms without ethics
morality sans love
passion ever searching
a need to rise above

heart sinking hatred
mind numbing neglect
mountain moving greed
rarely circumspect

not infrequently i ponder
how my being was unfurled
wondering deeply in my soul
if i belong to another world

I wrote this for you a long time ago on a coffee stained napkin, after you left me, full of love, lingering in a cafe.

"For you, in all your follies and faults and the way they make you so perfect for me.
For you, in the moments that linger in the vehemently insignificant corners and corridors of things, as if drifted of their own grandure.
For you, for the words that spill to the floor and the brilliant way you understand the deafening silence that follows.
For you, for your supernovas and clever shades, for your daylight smiles and nighttime skins.
For you, for your familiarity and the impossible truths that stand as martyrs to say that I have loved you before.
For you, despite the treachery and quiet sinister fun of the world.
For you, for making me so terribly scared of dying."
Yet here I am, in your wake, so full of so many thoughts and demons. Know that I have died, that I have loved and lost with equal measure.