I'm angry so I write
I'm sad so I write
I'm happy so I write
I'm scared so I write
I'm confused so I write
Although nobody knows how I feel
I've let it all go
Through my fingertips

I am the poem
I refuse to write.

My skin has formed itself
as sedimented book pages,
quietly injecting
our unspoken metaphors
into my bloodstream
of Murakami, of Plath,
of everything that hurt too much
to even whisper to my typewriter.

I am a poet,
and I will type you
into the night sky.

परवाने


ऐ हुस्न-ए-शमा, ऐ नूर-ए-जहाँ

अब आपके इश्क़ में
गर फन्ना भी हो जाएँ

तो कोई रंज-ओ-ग़म, कोई अफ़सोस नहीं।

अपने हिस्से की ख़ुशी
हमने पा ली।


Fire & Passion*


O! Charismatic - Light of the World!

Now if I annihilate myself
in your love,

I'll have no sorrow, no regrets.

For I’ve already had my share
Of Happiness.

You are not the scars on your body, and you are not the mistakes you have made, and you are not the people who have hurt you

You are the sun & the stars and music late at night and bare feet on fresh grass. You are all the things that keep you alive when it's 1am and your insides are screaming.

when i was 13,
"if your friends jumped
off a cliff would you?"
was an effortless,
"no"
because when i was 13
the cliff was a tall,
intimidating
piece of land
with a neon sign that said
"impending doom"
lit up at the edge,
but now im 20
and the cliff
comes in glass bottles
and the cliff
comes in thick syringes
and the cliff
is drawn beneath
my skin
in india ink
and down below it,
i can see my home town
and i can hear the patient voices
of the kids i grew up with
that never got out,
shakily shouting
"come down here;
it's easier at the bottom"
and if im being honest
im stumbling toward it
with an alarming
lack of fear