Your beauty is like the smoke I puff on a Sunday afternoon after all the dandelions fly their way up―visible and infinite. Imagine it in an island while you chase the light right above the ocean. And I’ll be seated, watching your hips sway, realizing that you’re too good for me.


―a.t.

She starts with a ‘you’ and they start with a beauty of something that’s new. She starts with ‘sometimes’ and they start with probabilities that are perhaps more valid. She keeps asking ‘why’ while they are always sure what’s been written. Well, I say, we’ve different point of views and hers’s a lot deeper than what’s on your mind.

―a.t.

You–I, we saw the world. The allegiance of mankind to rising of the sun. The treachery of actions to life. We shared spectacles of the remote lands atop mountains and boulders. Butterfly kisses made us weak, hushed promises and dreams made us vulnerable, and nape grabs always led your lips on mine.

You–I, we were one of a kind, self-aware, and spirited. You learned to thirst for open air and I also buried myself in your cosmos of black and white–of objectivity, ambitions, and pursuit of balance. We embraced one another’s quirks and differences.

You–I, were each other’s halves. Our souls met halfway as there were no words, definitely no words, left unsaid even through the darkest or littlest bickers we’ve had. Everything was real and translucent. We saw through each other, effortlessly. And everything wasn’t so bad.

We were us, together. With our dreams and aspirations. And as a team, we almost perfected compromise. Trying closely to weigh the good and bad banking on our values, beliefs, and priorities.

Until finally, we surrendered to our fragmented relationship and irreconcilable differences which made us grew better together and apart.

And maybe, that’s why we broke up.

―a.t.

You’re sad. And sadness, well, it’s characterized by negative circumstances in your life. But have you ever thought about it? How the brain controls emotions? How the brain, literally, controls every reception in our body?

Loss of a family member, of a special someone, disappointment over your colleague–everything that happens in our world is pure information. And our brain decides how to react to it. I am sad, you are sad, he is sad. Everyone feels the same, though never exactly on the same degree. But the point is everyone endures feelings because our mind tells us to. And sometimes your brain will fail you and would you ever know why? Why the system of the neurons rewiring in your head suddenly choose to break you? As much as you want to be in control, it’s hard and it’s a process. But thinking about it, isn’t it magical? How the brain controls your decisions and suddenly your entire life?

But remember, you’re just science in this world. We all are. You’re a walking anatomy of cell tissues. A speck of humanity sitting in corners. Barely significant. You’ve read books about the philosophy of mankind, of intangible things, of excruciating norms. But the mind could only absorb what you feed. Now I’m asking, how do we take control? Our emotions? Our tendencies to reciprocate what’s unworthy? How do we justify the unthinkable? Art? How do we take control of our lives? Faith is a good concept but aren’t we just a product of science–-science of pumping blood and adrenaline glands? Science of DNAs and reproductive system? Bottom line is, mortality is cruel. And all our stories end in one–death, decomposition, and a life untold.

So try not to be sad. Try to take control of your feelings. Take over your ******* brain–your freaking hypothalamus. Because in years time, eventually we’ll crumble in the ground. And we won’t remember a thing, memories happy or sad.



―a.t.

I know very well that I could escape the sorrow of leaving. But right at this moment, I’m choosing not to.

I wanna let it flow all through me like poison that will slowly **** me. I wanna breathe the fire in her lungs. I wanna scrape all the good memories and let the bad ones break me.

I think I know now what I deserve―and the ones I don’t.

‘‘To here”, she said.
“I know, I’m sorry”, I replied.

Shards of pain were visible through her eyes. She easily dismantled and I had no right to pick up her lone pieces. I caused pain and never its absence.

But maybe someday I could try.
When both our hearts are free.



―a.t.

Used cups of coffee
crumpled notes on top,
all scattered
all left untouched

Shoulders’re in pain,
lumps in my throat.
Sitting straight back,
head’s wandering
thoughts I can’t explain

The screaming, the jolting
the laughing, the crying
multitude of emotions
happening all at once
in different corners
of this orange box

and I keep waiting
for time to tick off
and find myself
floating on the driest desert
withering,
lost―
in actions and in words

a.t.

Of parallel universes,
of Plath’s metaphors,
of Soviet wars and
extistence we abhor

Things she cannot comprehend
not as much as
the words,
and thoughts she lend

Fantasies, realities
blocks
and pieces
are puzzles from different places

Glass and water
are lone,
veracious crystals

Therefore, this girl with
burning curiosity
hair tied,
matching red bow
will come after
rainbows, unicorns
and blackholes

Whilst her head’s buried in books
and mysteries of the undiscovered nooks