My body is a temple
My bleeding is divine
My womanhood is spiritual
In ways that an intolerant devotee like you cannot understand
So when you barr me from entering Sabarimala
Remember that you can't stop a goddess
Saraswati is wise but her rage is wild and merciless
Lakshmi will create earthquakes that will devastate
Durga will pierce your heart with her spear
Parvathi will leave her abode and run into the streets
Kali will destroy you in unimaginable ways
They reside within us
We will cut our feet on your shattered glass
We will shout till our voices become hoarse
An army of neglected women will create a tsunami
Till you're on your back, crying
Till you give up your apparent 'religion-saving'
Helpless, wailing
And bleeding

Hi, I'm an insecure poet
Just like I don't like myself
I don't like my poetry
I don't know but sometimes
My poems aren't just it
They are unclear and weird
Like my personality is
They're short and stout
Just like I look physically
They sometimes rhyme too much
Like I overdue too much
Sometimes the free verses
Seem like the amateur I am
And everything's clichéd
Like my creativity got ******
They're hairy and dark
And ugly and scarred
But most of the time
They're just all over
All over excellence
Just like my neighbour
Is all over men
And I try too hard
I get all over it
But when I let go
No matter that I'm fat
The breeze carries me forth
No matter that I'm dark
I shine
And my creativity
Crawls out of crevices  
To create poetry
That warms the soul

It's hard to fall in love again
Because after all that I've been through
I very strongly believe that the only ones who can ever truly love you back
Are your parents and your dog
It's hard to fall in love again
Because I was born and brought up in a culture which said that all that matters is the outside
And the inside can just go *******
It's hard to fall in love again
Because it is shown that being fair is the only way you can be lovely
That all matrimonials ever wanted was a slim and b'ful lady
If this was an MCQ, I'll be the none of these
It's hard to fall in love again
Because I'm scared all men just want the body with curves and face like an angel
That the only things that should be big are your **** and your ***
Because who gives a **** about a big heart
It's hard to fall in love again
Because the words that he said in the past still haunt me, telling me that I'm not good enough
Pretty enough, **** enough, anything enough to be loved
It's hard to fall in love again
Because eventhough I read quotes on how beauty comes from within, it's proved wrong with every single encounter
Which leads to be believe that all that movies and books ever taught us about romance is absolute *******
That the only reason Jack ever loved Rose was because, well, she was ******* hot
It's hard to fall in love again
Because people don't see that you're born with the skin but it takes effort to build the soul
Because the skin will form wrinkles and sag with time
But the soul and the mind won't
It's hard to fall in love again
Because I don't want to add more to my list of insecurities and brokenness which scar me forever
Because I don't want to dive down and down and down into my worn out self esteem
It's so ******* hard to fall in love again
So I laugh it off and joke around
But everytime I see you
I really, really want to fall in love again
But I'm scared that you'll do the same and break whatever is left of me
That you'll turn me inside out and rub my imperfections till they burn
That you'll laugh with your friends and say
Where did that ***** even gather the guts from to come up to me and say, "Hey man, I like you"
Like that's the worst thing anyone could ever say to you?
They say
Love is a drug
But I think I'm in rehab
They say
Don't be cynical about love because in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
It is as perennial as the grass
But I think I'm better off in a barren land
A place that can accept me for who I am
So the next time you ask,
"Are you dating someone?"
And I reply with a snort and say, "Huh, look at me. No one would want to be with me."
And you say, "No, looks don't matter and the personality-"
I'll punch you in the ******* face
Because to hell with all your crap
You won't want to be me even for a single day
You won't want to be the ugly girl standing in the corner of the hallway

Behind closed doors and forgotten walls
Adorned with a garland around the frame
Is a black and white photograph of my grandmother
Worshipped each morning by my parents
You won't notice her if you pass by
But if you do, stop by and look
Her piercing gaze will remind you of all your sins
And make you wonder if photos actually have meaning
Her eyes will stare deep into mine
And tell me to talk, to make up for the conversations we lost
She will make you wonder what kind of a person she was
Did she want me to be who I am today?
Did she get stored in this photograph to remind me of her everyday?
Of a life lived long and the lessons learnt
Of the values and love that she holds
I talk to her sometimes
I'm partly amused at the stupidity
But partly intimidated by how her hidden presence
Tells me that I'll be fine no matter the circumstance
As long as she is there
Trapped in this photograph

I remember when I was 12
There was this really cute guy
He had the most perfect hair
And the most amazing smile
I felt this connection between us
This little spark of attraction
And I liked him so much
That I named it was love
But day after day passed
And someone asked
'So you like her?'
'Nah'
I was broken
'Why?'
'Because she likes One Direction!'
'What if she didn't?'
'Still, not a bit'  
'Why?'
'Honestly, she looks like a pig!'
And there I was
In a broken hearted barn
In the mud of insecurity
As a filthy creature, darned
I could cry, I could wail
But I held myself and slept
Dreamless darkness seemed
So much better than the real
And when I woke up
Just for a moment
I thought it's all okay
But then it struck me like a lightning bolt
Everything came crashing down
I hated myself so much
For being so fat, ugly and hairy
For how I looked and who I was
For my skin and my very bones
And from that day on
I let him define for me
My being, my beauty, my value in life
And love, how it'll never be mine

I don't get **** sometimes
It makes me feel dumb and incapable
I wish we could transform science
So it wouldn't feel like a burden

Where is the spark of learning?
The prime aspect of education
Formulas, calculation, books
At the end of the day, I feel like nothing is useful

Fluids, kinematics, gravitation
Atoms, molecules and electromagnetism
Phylum and classes of plants and animals
Calculus and relation and function

Sometimes, I feel like maybe I'm just better off at poems

Every morning she woke up early
When emptiness would invade the court  
But she would break her each sweat
Being crystal clear about her goal

Her every victory and her every loss
Made her improve from who she was  
She had dreams to achieve, races to compete in
She didn’t have time to give up

She recognised her weaknesses  
Determined and earnest  
She toiled alone each day  
She worked hard to be the best  

Slowly, patience seemed to wear out
The results weren’t in haste
Loss after loss gave its taste to her
She accepted it as her fate

She let the thread loose
The fire inside of her seemed to be dim
Things that she cared so much for
Seemed so far away, so slim

She was made of passion
Of a driving sensation
And all she amounts to now
Are long lost appreciations

I want to unscrew the window grill and crawl out
To the vastness of the world
I want to throw stones at your window
And tag you along on an adventure
Make a space ship in the garage
Travel to parallel universes
Shoot the weird *** aliens
Even if it's all just the aftereffects of marijuana,
I'd like to smoke some with you
What do you say?
Will you be the Rick to my Morty?

Music inspires me
And I look outside
The silhouette of
Leafless trees
Against the dawn
And I think of anyone
Anyone, I know
Like life
I changed
For good, for bad
But I left you
Without reason, just
Fear of being faked at
And I wanted to
Tilt, to go back
But it was too late
And curse me
Your memories
Will be of that
All the older ones
Will evaporate
And when I'll leave
They'll ask
"Remember her?"
And you'd say
"An altered acquaintance
She was"
So I'm sorry
I hope you'll forgive me

Here is an alternate scenario
Since the ideal one is too clichéd
10 years later you walk into a party
With a girl who isn’t perfect but you love her for who she is
And I look and wonder why you couldn’t love my imperfections like that
Even though you told me I was beautiful at my weakest
Why couldn’t you love me for it?
I see you two dancing in the low light
And I look towards my best friend
And she says **** it man
And I say yeah man, **** it all
And I get drunk even though alcohol is overrated and pepsi is much better
I do it because the haziness makes it funny instead of heartbreaking
And I’m laughing
Dancing on my own
A complete mess
And then I start talking about how I never got guys
And then I start crying because I want to be her
Gosh, I want to be her and alcohol doesn’t help at all
And my best friend has to take me home and tug me in
I wake up the next morning
We’re back to who we were
I never say how much I love you
You never realise how much I love you
And I get back to saying
“You know, I wonder what it feels like to be in love with someone who loves you back”
Maybe you loved me back in an alternate universe

Turn me into a metaphor
Any metaphor, I don't care which one
Either I'm the raging storm or the silhoutte against the moon
I'm the sunshine on your wet hair or the rain drowing you
I don't ask for your love
Just make me into a literary device
Pen me on paper
That is the only way I'll feel alive
When your words caress my presence even if your hands don't
When I will be immortalized in your works
I don't care if you stay with me for eternity or let me go
I want you to remember me and construct me into prose
Which maybe people will recall
And feel something, anything at all
I want you to use me to create that warmth
That sensation that the lonely strive for
So break my heart
Use my pieces to scratch out words
Use my blood to ink them into sheets
I don't care what you do to me
Just turn me into a ******* metaphor
And store me in your poetry

It's after midnight
And I'm listening to The Doors
And I think in Jim Morrison's symphony -
I'm a Rider On The Storm
With People who Are Strange
But I say, "Hello, I Love You, can you tell me your name?"
I beg them to Light My Fire
But they don't even try...
How long will I try to Break On Through To The Other Side?
Love Me Two Times, before I say I'm goin' away

But maybe I don't have to feel lonely
As long as there is good music out there

Once I was 6 years old
My papa told me
"Be curious and question
Nothing is meant to just be"
And so I questioned
Everything that I came upon
But nobody knew the answers
And I just got completely lost
But still I dived deep
Creating confusion
My curious being
Started living in a maze of questions
Whatever was said
Were broken bits
It didn't make sense
Knowledge became unfit
Maybe people didn't know
Maybe they never thought so
But they seemed content
With everything that was written
What? Why? How?
My papa said,
"Minds have become a pretense"

So you ask the difference
Between prose and poetry

Prose is just... prose

But poetry is a song
An entire universe, coming full circle
Poetry beats with my heartbeat
And it sings, but in a melody
Of words and midnight thoughts
Of strong coffee and dreamy haze
The mix of noise and silence
Poetry matches the rhythm of my feet
Tip-tap-tap, tip-tap-tap, it goes  
It climbs slopes and mountains
Varying in speed and delivery   
And descends, slowly, sliding into a pool of emotions
10,000 degrees of sadness and happiness
In each verse of the poet
Poetry is destruction and creation
Of the old and the new
Of statements and opinions
Of the paradaox of our age
Things built and unbuilt,
Broken and assembled
Like a lego model of complications
Poetry is revolt and revolution at the same time
It is a chant for liberation
That cannot be overcome by dominance
Or by any evil things of these times
Poetry is the hope of the protest
And the push for change
Waiting patiently, just going over the edge
About to burst not into flames but butterflies
And clear skies, Sunday morning sunlight
Like yellowed novel pages
Poetry will turn you inside out
Bare the soul and tear the flesh
Scatter the foundation of bones
Until you wonder and ponder
Over your very existence
Poetry is everywhere
And by everywhere, I mean, especially your toilet
Best thought out on the ***
Poetry is a word search with infinite vocabulary
Hoping to cross out as many as possible
But it never ends
Poetry is in the shade of your backyard tree
Of the things in this world that cannot speak
So we speak for them
It is the shout of the left-out, marginal, never-really-existing people
Poetry is life given to those who would not have had one
It is a Christmas sock for the soul
Comforting and warm, cherished in all forms
Poetry is writing poems for yourself and reading them in front of the mirror
And at the same time
Standing in a bazaar and waving your arms
Among cows and vegetables and chaat
Shouting, "Listen to me! I've got something to say!"
Poetry is getaway
In corners and edges
It is trying to escape everything real
And wanting the surreal
It is the 1 o'clock fantasies
Riding on waves, pirates of my own land
Middle Earth and elves, the adventures of dwarf lads
Poetry is the life-changer, the inspirer
The 'you'll be alright'
And 'next time buddy'
To every exam failed, every heartbreak
The arm on the shoulder, the pat on the back  

Poetry is... A lot of things
But most importantly,
Poetry is you
It's in the whispers of you singing in the shower
It is your ugly, spit flying, gums showing laughter on the terrace
It is how you snuggle right into my emptiness

Poetry is the answer
To my 6 year old adopted kid's question
When he walks in with my 10 adopted dogs
And asks me,
"Mom, what is everything made of?"
I'll first tell him that matter is made up of atoms
Because, of course, he needs to be scientifically correct
But then I'll add that everything is made of poetry too, there's not much difference

See, prose is just prose
But poetry is not 'just poetry'

Kamla sits on the stairs outside a shop
Wearing a worn out sari, holding a stick
Her thick glasses dusted with dirt from ages
She keeps her left hand extended
Passerby's coins make up her living
Jamal is always on a crutch
He sleeps on the footpath outside the masjid
When one day, someone drove over him
But justice for poor is non-existent

But you
You stand in the middle of the road
While a line of cars wait
You burst crackers like it's your own backyard
The remanents splattering everywhere

Instead
Go light someone's life
Give Kamla something to eat
Give Jamal a blanket
Who may be tapping car windows at traffic signals
Begging, to overcome our ignorance

If you're waiting for a Prince Charming
I'm sorry to break your fantasies
But he will never come
If you're waiting for someone
Handsome, funny, wealthy
Understanding and caring
All at the same time
Then you won't find one

But maybe you'll find a
Funny nutjob without a job
Or a wealthy guy shielded with walls
You'll find a
Handsome hero with a broken heart
Or maybe an understanding nerd
With no looks at all
Love won't measure and calculate
Because 'lovability' is like pineapple on pizza
It's not a thing
You'll fall for the worst of them
And the best of them
But none will be perfect

Who the **** created perfect?
Mathematically,
It would be equal to infinity times better
It's like saying
Two parallel lines will meet
Or a zero will multiply itself over and over till it reaches a quantity
But actually, in what we feel and see
It won't, it's all abstract

Perfect doesn't exist
Prince Charming doesn't exist
But you can find someone
In whose pockets you can tuck your imperfections
And he can tuck it in yours
And you can be mismatching puzzle pieces
Trying to lock into each other
But not locking in completely
Trying to be of the same frequency
But varying in every other degree
You can be who you are, bare skin and bones
With each other but you'll never be
A fairytale or a happily ever after

Dear future significant other,
So I finally found you
I know I act like I don't give a ****
Like I don't buy all this love drama
But that's because my past experiences tore me apart so much
That I chose indifference over affection
I'm not telling you to give me flowers everyday
But tell me I'm beautiful every time you get the chance
Even if I scoff at you and tell you that I don't believe it
Show me that you appreciate the beauty that lies within
Which I have been nurturing all my life
But to no applause or avail
Tell me that you've never, ever met someone as crazy and wild like me
But don't smother me with praise either
Tell me I'm a ******* when I'm being one
But do not pick on my imperfections
I've been picking on them for too long
I stand in front of the mirror and analyse my each and every flaw
Thinking that I'm too ugly, too fat
Too whatever-boys-don't-like to ever be loved
Draw the curtains on my insecurities
And know that even though you don't see the scars and tears, they're there
The world made me rough, told me to not talk and shut the **** up
So be a shoulder during my weakness and help me deal with this madness
I probably never told you but
I imagined you during each romance book and movie, each 2 o'clock fantasy, each love song
I've been waiting for you throughout my life
I didn't want to but I did
That's just who I am
Let's go on adventures and do things no one has ever done before
Because we are anything but routine
And, in the end, leave me if you must
But do it with decency because I've had too many ugly heartbreaks  
I will not be able to tolerate another ****  
Leave me, even if it will hurt
Even if it *****
But do it with with respect
And I'll thank you
For teaching me things I could not have learnt otherwise
With love,
Hopeless romantic

She changed her status every hour
Little, broken hearted quotes
Maybe because she felt that
Social media listens when people don't
She was expressive, emojis and all
Seemed like a pretty happy soul
Because there, she could be something
That she wished was actually her own
Her pillow was the only thing
That could absorb her tears at night
She would feel a stupid boy
Could describe what she was like
She once felt the need to dress up
Because she believed in her grace
Until he came along, made her feel unworthy
And so she put on clothes in haste
She was sarcastic all through the day
But at night when alcohol filled her veins
She'd wonder and wonder - why?
Why was she the one to endure the pain?
And when her friends would force her
To watch a Nicolas Sparks movie
While you all will be drooling around
She'll chuckle in disbelief
Because she knew it was propaganda
That love was just as fake
And all the fairy tales stuffed inside our brains
Were all *******, for God's sake

कैसे लिख दू  इन पन्नों पर
अपने इस दिल की तन्हाई
तुम जो अब नहीं हो तो
पुरानी यादें लौट कर आई

How shall I write on these pages
The loneliness of my heart
Now that you're not here
Old memories have come back

तुम्हारी जिन्दगी का अंत
कभी हमने सोचा न था
तुम अपनी ही जान ले लोगी
हमने कभी परखा न था

Your life's end
Never did we think about it
You will take your own life
We never had a glimpse about it

ये कैसा दंड दीया है तुमने?
बिन बोले मर जाने का
ये कैसा दंड दीया है तुमने?
बिन चाहे छोड़ जाने का

What kind of a punishment have you given?  
Without saying, you died
What kind of a punishment have you given?
Without wanting, you left

क्या जीवन की रोशनी
इतनी फिकी पड़ गई
कि मौत के गहरे अंधेरे में
तुम अपने आप को खो गई?

Did life's light
Get so dim
That in death's deep darkness
You lost yourself?

His voice is like cotton candy
Like icebergs melting into waterfalls
Like the warmth that can ignite the sky
The soft sound of dandelions in flight

The metaphors and similies fall short
He can tell me that all I know is wrong
And I would still believe him

Your love made me believe for real that our world is not a simulation
Because how could your touch be as binary as zeros and ones
When I feel the whole number line inside of me
How could you program a machine to be as random as my heartbeat when I see you?
And what about the butterflies -
What about the ******* butterflies?

She didn't want someone commonplace
She wanted an artist, a poet,
A singer, a dancer... just someone
More intriguing than her
Wandering, she met him one day  
He, with a big mouth and the skill
To write like every ******* thing sings
A language that shakes her, startles her
Yet touches her soul at the same time
The way he talked instilled a warmth
She felt illuminated with true meaning
With beauty, with voices of creativity
So she followed his every syllable
Punctuated his pieces with love
Linked his figure of speeches
Swayed by his tide of words
She slid down the hill of literature
Of tales with happy endings
When one day, she wasn't his story
When she wasn't good enough
When he moved on to look for someone
More intriguing than her

She wants a house
With a terrace garden and a bookshelf in her bathroom
So she can read while pooping to save time
She says she wants a tree house
Where she can put fairy lights
And spend her lonely nights
She wants a cot where she can doze off
And ooh, a shot glass collection
From all the places she has gone
Though she would not drink because
She does not believe in substance abuse
She wants to grow creepers on the walls
And have a bird feeding area
She wants many dogs who know
How to open the door and bring stuff over
And she doesn't want a bed
She wants a tent that she can move
And sleep in wherever the hell she wants
She wants a huge oven
Where she can make pastries and cookies and brownies and cupcakes
She wants a hot tub in her bathroom
And a chocolate fountain in her kitchen
Which will be open for the neighbourhood children
Because she always wanted one when she was young...
But now she's old
And things don't make sense anymore
The taste of reality is bitter
For her soft and rosy lips wrinkled with time
She doesn't want to be asinine
Mediocrity looms over her like a storm cloud
But it's okay, she says
Maybe someday, I'll live up to it
Knowing within that she wouldn't

Fluttering fireflies
Why is it so hard to say goodbye?

A new girl
In a new place
Lonely, yet to be loved
But what if there's no love
What if I lose myself in the hatred
Then, then, WHAT of the outcome?

The present is merely like fireflies
Whipping wings in the dancing sky
But not long after
They will be gone
Engulfed in the empty spaces, forgotten, forlorn

The old big brown tree
Was a symbol of love and humanity
In it's last years
It was leaf-less and shriveled
Like old grandmothers and grandfathers
Left alone and abandoned to rotten

The old man comes to the park every day
He walks with his left hand outstretched
******* poking out, waving in air
As if that's the imaginary walking stick
With which he controls and coordinates
He turns and his other hand slides up
His slender arms like a bird's wings
That flies him to places we cannot see
And many may call him mentally *******
But I say, he lives in dreams

How many sunsets does it take to feel like you actually belong somewhere
How many awkward conversations does it take to feel like this is home
How many wet pillows and repeated hellos does it take
How many seen-zones and ignores
How many ‘from tomorrow onwards’ promises
How many written poems and spoken word performances
How many “hey, you’re the new kid” labellings
How many corners and books to get lost in
How many sleepless nights and midnight walks
How many rotations of the earth
How many revolutions, if that’s what it takes
Till I stop feeling miserable one day

What is your story, old man?
You lie in bed, shuddering
Do your kids burn their eyes?
Watching you suffering?  

What is your story, nurse?
You’ve witnessed every ail    
Are you too weary of deaths?
Detachment over pain?  

What is your story, lady?
You’re a pile of tubes and veins
Did life get too ******* you?
Dying from old age?

What is your story, doctor?
Try to treat and repeat
Is it all a tirade of situations?
Is normalcy too far away?  

What is your story, child?
Tear-stains cover childishness  
Is the reality too sobering?
Does it overpower happiness?

A poet would live in a hospital
Where there are lives to discover
And stories to be shared
Which may be left untold forever

Dear world,
I am a woman, immaterial
I am life itself personified
But behind this exterior,
I burn like a thousand suns
I rage like the devil inside  
I have loved ones
And ones to love
I have a past and a present
With memories that make me
My feet are strong, grounded
I have a spine of dignity
I do not bleat for dominance
Protection or misuse
I am human, skin and bones
Rights to be treated equally
I look forward at the future
With willingness to learn
I long for things I admire
That I will earn on my own
Without any rule-books
Or terms and conditions  
I want to pace the horizon
Chasing freedom and serenity  
I want to live in a world
Which allows me to breathe
Completely and fully
Sincerely,
Woman

Before you say,
"You are holding on to me too much"
Let me tell you, not cheesily but realistically
That you are all I have
In a world of "hi-bye" conversations
You are one to whom I can talk about
Every book I've read or every political opinion I have
Every thought that passes in the blink of an eye
Every feeling I've felt at every moment I've spent
Every thing, with or without significance, alike
You are the one whom I introduce to my mother
With a smile that says,
"Mom, this is the reason why I've been sleeping peacefully
And breathing easily
And not feeling as lonely as I used to be"
So before you ask,
"Oh, so I can't hang out with anyone else now?"
I'll tell you that you can
But I can't
Because I can't relate to anyone else
In this world of formalities and judgement
That I feel left-out when you aren't there
So when I sit there with gloomy eyes
And tell you,
"I'm fine. I'm just sleepy, that's all"
What I actually wanna say is,
"OH, I ******* HATE EVERYONE"
But you don't have to hunch your back carrying my burdens
I am an ever-lasting internal battle
You won't understand me
Neither will you, or you, or you, or you
And before you say,
"It's all just an illusion, you're not as lonely as you think you are"
I am
Because I find myself in dark corners at times
Severely depleated in shoulders to cry on
You don't know what that's like
You don't know what it's like to sleep on a wet pillow every night
Dreading every single day
You don't know how it's like to hide underneath desks
And make up plausible excuses for your ever-lasting sadness
And before you say,
"Poor people are dying in our country-"
I know, I know they are
Charlie from Perks of Being a Wallflower said that,
"When my children grow up and they are facing problems like these
I won't tell them things like kids are starving in other countries
Because it isn't gonna make them feel any better"
I wish people like Charlie were real
So everytime you say,
"I'll be there for you"
Like this is ******* 'Friends'
I don't believe it for a single second
I don't need you to make promises out of sympathy
Truth is, this won't exist if people really gave a ****
And when you ask,
"What do you want from life?"
Honestly... honestly?
All I want is someone to come and put a hand on my shoulder
Look me in the eye and ask,
"How has your day been?"
And listen to each and every word of my reply
Listen to why I write such poems at midnight
Why I feel the way I do
And then maybe, maybe
You'll understand why I don't want to let go of you

I would rather be
A slam poet or a graffiti artist

I would rather be
A dreamer
Who loves the way the air hits their skin
Or believes that traffic signals are an intersection of stories and not vehicles

Than someone who
Dreads every moment
Anxious, doubtful, scared

I would rather be someone else

As she was sitting on the station
And reading a book in leisure
All near her were pacing around
Waiting for some train she was unaware about
They pulled and packed their luggage
And walked with no amount of grace
They paced here and there
Calling out again and again
But she, she didn't give a penny
She didn't buy this unjust space
She was in her own dimension
Not caring for the mediocre state
And when she looked up for a glimpse
She saw everyone hurrying away
All packed and going in life's train
Uncertain of destiny
Living up to someone else's aims

You're my second half
You're a part of my heart
And I'm sorry, but I have to go
Like we all do in life
But I know, against all odds
That our love will survive

They said there was karma
That everything bad you did
Eventually came back at you
And she thought he will suffer
That he will be a broken heart  
Just like she was after rejection
But he didn't cry like she did
He didn't die a thousand deaths
He didn't sink with his heavy heart
He didn't suffer from karma's bet
Instead he smiled and glowed
And held hands with his dear one
He was happy, for ****'s sake
But she, she was still alone

My heart is a rookie, new and fresh from the drafts
But mid-season, it got injured and never really came back into form

The world seemed desolate
My presence was distinct
Away from the dissonance
In my captivated reveries
I ponder over the scent of truth
I ponder over imagination
I ponder over patented origins
Of the bird of poems
I drift my vision towards the sky
In search of poetic poetry
I look for a surge of light
To convert it into imagery
I watch the stars twinkle and shine
And I try to trigger my memory
An eerie emotion, deep and dark
Breaks my rapturous reverie
I pen it down on the sheet of my heart
With myriad refrains and rhyme
Here what you get on the sheet
Is the power of poetry entwined

He can play the violin
With such grace and love
I wonder if he might be capable
Of giving the same to me

He can move the strings
On his guitar with such a rhythm
I wonder if he can move his fingers
Like that on my body

He can sing in a voice that
Sounds like all the truth unfolds
I wonder if he can do that
At night when I can't sleep

He's a musician with talent
And I'm one in the audience
If only he could look through the chaos
If only he could acknowledge my presence

I speak from the landfills, dumpsters and gutters
I speak from the corners you ignore
Because you don't want to acknowledge your contributions
You know you add to it more
Everytime your car passes
Your inner voice rants and screams
But you look the other way
And scrunch your nose up silently
No one wants to make a move
While we live in our fantasies
Away from the rag-pickers and sewage cleaners
Who segregate our waste for a mere salary
Who clean our **** while we throw some more at them
Who are not treated as human
We just want to get rid of things so we throw
Throw on the road, in the rivers and lakes
In the forests, in other peoples' place
We urinate and spit red paan on walls
We do our business on railway platforms
We live in a such a mess
We are such a mess
Our ideology is as filthy as these places
So I'm sorry, for such a disturbing poem
But it's time you better be disturbed
"Long years ago we made a tryst with destiny..."
70 years ago, these were Nehru's words

Once there was a white boy named Austin
Who wiped his hand after I held it
This black of my skin is not dirt
*****, I have more melanin than you
So I'll bring you flowers in the hospital
When you get skin cancer
And I wouldn't

Forgive me father, I'm about to sin
But these desires burn like fire
They cannot be extinguished by the wind
The trickle of pleasure runs down my body
I try, but I can not control the feeling
I might be impure but sated all the same
Please, I need it more than anything
Barriers of right and wrong leave me in confusion
But the heat against my skin lulls me
Even if it's just for a moment
Please, I need some peace of mind
I'm not a sinner, just worn out by life
When he runs his fingers down my bareness
I feel a divinity that religion can't define
The pleasure of the present is much more
Than the atrocities of hell in banishment
Maybe it's immoral or unethical  
Unacceptable or evil
But in moments of loneliness and pain
My heart tells me it's worth it

How would the world be
If you were mine

We would glide through the dance floor
Holding on to each other
On songs sweet and slow
We would run down the beach barefoot
Holding hands and making promises
Enjoy being young and in love
At night, I would bid your insecurities to sleep
Accept you for whoever you are
And as the sun breaks the darkness
Rising from the horizon
You'd sing me Ed Sheeran songs
We would hike up the mountains
Make love in the wildest of places
We would go for bike rides at midnight
Play old songs and sing like the world's gonna end
You would get me chocolates
Whenever its that time in the month
Hold back my hair
When I'm puking 'cause I'm drunk
We will go to the games together
And scream like our life depends on it
We will make a family together
Not of children, but of animals
Dogs, talking macaws, turtles, gerbils
We'll get matching tattoos
Not the cheesy ones but things like,
"I love nachos" cause we ******* do
We wouldn't be perfect because nothing is
But we'll trod through every storm
We wouldn't say all the right things in all the right places
But we'll stay together in love
Maybe things wither like flowers
But we'll enjoy the spring
Maybe we're not for forever
But we'll cherish the present

But you look the other way
Whenever I try to catch your eye
I have all these fantasies in place
But you never seem to try

How would the world be
If you were mine
Oh man,
How would the world be
If you were mine

I crave a cigarette with my whole existence
Like I’ve never craved something before
My body aches, my joints feel heavy
My blood has stopped flowing
My nerves are dormant
My system will cease to exist without nicotine
Why is it that these getaways are all I have?
At the end of the day, I have no internal support system
Other than these fleeting moments of happiness
Why is that I feel as if I might combust?
I might tear apart anyone or anything
Because I don’t feel good about myself
And that statement is old and overused
But it is eternal and never-ending
Is there any other way to be?
I don’t want the things I used to
I have stopped trying to bargain with love
I have edged into the dent in the wall
Of sad guitar solos and sugary coffee
Of books that tell me how to breathe
And transport myself into another reality
Is it okay to be so far away from yourself?
To settle into stories like they’re all I have
Are these illusions all I have to proclaim?
When I’m 50 and they ask me what matters
I’ll tell them about youthful indulgence
And fictional stories, second-hand feelings
I’m trying to live like there’s no other day
But sometimes I feel like I should stop
And look myself in the eye and ask
“Who are you? What are your ideals?
What makes you who you are?
What do you desire?”
Playlists that make me teary
Late night battles with myself
Transcendence into places
I avoid during the day
Viktor E. Frankl said,
“The salvation of man is through love and in love”
How deeply you lived is how deeply you loved
Not just people, but life itself
The opportunities, the frivolities
And yourself
Imagine being stuck in a room
There’s constant knocking at the door
You can unlock the door if you want
But you’re unable to, you just can’t get up
And you hate yourself for it
Year after year, you’re in a war
That you don’t want to be a part of
That is how insecurities feel
Angst and rage swallow your loathing
You consider music
Baking, painting, writing
Make up, old dresses
Long showers, strangers
Mellow afternoons
Scrapbooks full of prose to make you feel alive
Create infinities
Within yourself, around yourself
By yourself
It’s like you’re trying so hard to run
From what? To where?
You don’t know
Just somewhere
Where the bells chime in solace
You drown your anxiety
Into Bailey’s Irish Cream and chug
Sloppy and smiling
Where nothing but the present matters
And you can stop running
The shadows you can’t face
The situations you don’t know how to handle
Are long gone, almost unreal
You look back and say,
“Thank god, I’m not that person anymore.”
Tell me that place exists
Tell me the city lights will feel like stars
Tell me that when I jump off a cliff into water
It will ignite my existence
I will be greater than myself
I will understand what it means
To go all in and not hold back
That even if it’s a bell jar at one point
It’s la vie en rose at another
Is there a philosophy to follow?
Am I doing the right things?
Are knowing and unknowing
Two sides of the same coin?
Can I hold your hand?
I promise I won’t fall in love
I promise I won’t give you my burdens
The phone rings but you don’t pick up
And I survive one more day
Without expecting anything in return
I know you’ll leave one day
And no matter how much I avoid feeling anything
I am not cut out for stoicism
But I sure do aim for it
Rainy evenings and windy days
Yellow flowers that scatter the street in front of my house
I reach out
For what? I don’t know
But sometimes, I feel something reaching back
Escapism and frustration
Bitterness and disconnectedness
Amidst all that
I believe in my absolute freedom
No matter how delusional
There are no circles that enclose me
There are fine lines I tiptoe on
On planes at wildly different angles
Searching for meaning
Distracting myself from the misery
Until it hits me unawares
Dostoevsky said,
“There is only one thing that I dread:
Not to be worthy of my sufferings”
And I feel myself to be of no significance
In the greater scheme of things
But as Lana Del Ray put it,
Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have
But I have it