For lack of the sun
The yellow flowers became
The light of today

I carry the clothes on my body–
a plain t-shirt and sweater leggings–
attempting to stay warm and keep cool.
I carry my backpack,
my heavy, heavy backpack,
to carry the things I can’t carry in my arms…
my books, pencils, papers, and keys.
In my arms I sometimes carry more books,
sometimes a cup of chai, and sometimes, nothing. Sometimes
I wish I carried a little bit more time;
then I could carry the things I’ve left behind.

I carry all the parts of me simultaneously, and I am full now.
I carry my eyes, for without them, my path would be blurred,
and I would be ignorant.
I carry my ears to hear music and dissonance and
I carry a heart to feel the soundwaves and make sense of them.
I carry my nose to hold the sweetness of a flower in my lungs,
and skin to caress their soft petals,
without plucking them.
When I carry nothing, I sleep,
and in my dreams, I carry the clouds and the stars beyond them.
From there I may see the things I have yet to carry.

I carry my own weight across the populated Earth.
I carry my own gravity and the light of the sun.
I carry the stars from my dreams, and from them,
I create constellations in broad daylight.
I carry my heart.
I carry the soundwaves of voices like
space nymphs, singing songs I want to remember.
I carry the sight of people coming closer and drifting further from me,
escaping and re-entering my orbit,
an arm-length or a light-year away.
I carry their images and sometimes,
I reach for their silhouettes and I try to feel their thoughts.

I carry my heart and it is full.
My heart is filled with emotion,
and my emotions are the Earth’s turbulent winds
across a golden, sun-kissed field and
the sound of a waterfall crashing into
a pool of water at the bottom of the valley, and
equally the eye of the storm in which
the world is a spinning oblivion,
but here, it is quiet.
My heart is the recollection of times past
in a yellowed, well-worn tome awaiting a reader and
the diary of someone whose story begs to be forgotten.
My heart beats for someone to understand its journey,
but it longs to understand what it beats for.
I carry the silence and the music alike;
I carry the Earth and all its wonders.

You stomp on the glass floor
And when it shatters and you fall through
You point at me

Once upon a time, I knew you.
Innocent, alone, quiet, but it all seemed like
A bad case of deja vu.
You knew me once, twice, thrice...
I knew,
You have the power to make our world
Or destroy it.
Despite this, I faithfully
Maintained the only promise I've ever made.

Once upon a time I felt the sun
Kiss my face and the wild breeze
Tame my hurting soul.

But now, I only feel the present.
All I know now is the emptiness
Of having everything torn away
From you.
This emptiness you brought me--
Let me repay it
As many times as you will allow me.

Or until
We return
To once upon a time.

Under the burning sun, we run,
our brave hearts beating as one.
Beneath the shining moon we rest,
and in the morning we're at our best.
Together in battle we fight to win;
we'll beat the odds no matter how thin.
You're my partner through and through--
so let's use our ultimate Z-Move!

you’re my cup of coffee at 6:45 AM
smell dancing like incense in the middle of pooja
warm as the sun peaking out shyly behind the horizon
richly sweet caramelized sugar pearly cream
and bitter like the small things i dont know about you yet.

but when you touch my lips
the bitterness i can swallow with the sweet
and the sweet i savor with every taste bud on my tongue.

before i head out the door at 7 AM
i kiss your forehead and wash out the emptied mug
but the taste of cappucino lingers at the corners of my mouth
as i wave good day to you.

and when i return at 5:30 PM
limbs pathetically sown on with prayers
empty rivers landfills of worry time ticking like a heartbeat
the aroma wafts around me again like a scarf.

in your embrace
i fall asleep with dreams of whipped clouds and
love at the cafe.

is the life of one person
worth a family's freedom?
is the life of seven people
worth a kingdom's liberation?

after a life was stolen from me,
i deemed this to be proper payment.
but after stealing six lives,
i suddenly have found myself
hesitant to take a single step further.

you long for home, so you have journeyed this far.
we have longed for something akin to a new home.

but the look in your eyes say,
even if it meant you could see your family again,
you would not steal another life.

so then, why have i carried on this long,
pushing along this false sense of righteousness
alone?

The stars glare at me
As I lie awake on my bed,
Imagining constellations on my ceiling
Truth be told,
I imagine I am gazing up at them,
But they are too stubborn
They wouldn't listen if I told them

Their twinkle in the night sky
Looked like a sparkling waterfall
Their loyalty to the night
Is unrivaled in the universe
Their blazing bodies
Bring light in the darkness
Their presence every night
Gives me ease and I sleep well

Nibbling on the corner of
A fluffy planetary nebula,
Swimming with a cluster
Of dreaming asteroids
I imagine all these things
Happening above my head

life isnt always the frosting on the cupcake
sometimes its the wrapper and
belongs in the trash

Our love was like a negative parabola;
Where we thought we found happiness
We only found the vertex

And then it came crashi ng d o w   n

tasteful lies
on a silver platter, underneath a shining dome
i await dinner with drooling eyes

i feel like a shredded jigsaw puzzle
the unsolvable rubik's cube
abstract art by the picasso of melancholy
who couldnt find a way out of his blue period
melted ice cream sundae and cherry
sitting forgotten rotting on hot summer concrete

the common man of the cubicle
would eat people like me for dinner
and he would enjoy it too with his
overly happy son and his
overly happy wife and his
overly happy purebred golden trophy dog
i sit at the middle of the table
the eye of attention and
stuffed by an apple to keep me shut and
they stare at me ready to tear me apart and
for dressing tonight they will eat my tears

cover me in blankets and lay me down in bed
i will slip away for the night and
in the morning hopefully
i will be a step closer to completed

So in the end
Night fell upon me
And swallowed me whole
And left nothing behind
But my fallen tears
No one was there
To watch me fall,
Drown in my eternal nothings

So in the end
Night fell upon us
And you were left with
My smiling face, the one
I forgot, I left with you
Because I love you so
And didn't want to trouble you
Any more than I already have

So in the end
Night fell upon this city
And to everyone that had ever
Laid their eyes upon
My matter, matter with no reason
I give my memory
Take it and breathe it in
Let it fill you with life
And then exhale

So in the end
Night fell upon me
And swallowed me whole
And left nothing behind
But a sad, selfish rabbit
Who loved being alone
And yet despised being lonely

Today, I am among the half-dead again
Wandering the halls with a gaze that could disintegrate the sun
The world around me is painted in an elephant grey
But this safari feels empty and yet so congested
With a smile that’s been sloppily and gruelingly painted on,
I face the challenges of everyday life once more

Half of me is tuned in to the things around me,
Scribbling words and deciphering the text at a snail’s pace
But the other half is still dreaming,
Waging war against the strongest mages of our time
Or drowning among a school of clownfish
Either way I’m not here and I’m begging to be free
Today, I am among the half-dead again

I imagine that someday a dragon will take me away
This may simply be my dreaming side taking over again
But if I said it could burn away all my worries,
Wouldn’t you wish for that as well?
I would hop onto its scaly back and point towards the sky,
Chanting as if I had been rehearsing for this moment,
“Anywhere is fine, as long as it’s not here”

But until then, I am drenched in my own rain
And the smile has run off with it, off to somewhere far away
Today, I am among the half-dead again
With weights tightly chained to my fingers
I’m dragging my thoughts along with my spirit

I’m a little bit tired but maybe if I wait, tomorrow will be a much better day

A million miles over
Cities toppled over like broken glass,
Raging waters with pointed teeth,
Familiar hands lost to the journey,
And hardships nobody on this
Seemingly godforsaken planet
Deserves to endure,
And at the very end of the very last mile,
What right do you have to say,
"You are not welcome here"?
Have you seen the fire that burns
In the orphaned children?
Have you seen the blood of your loved ones
Spilled across your feet?
Have you faced death in the eyes and
Felt his presence in your shadows?
Or have you instead,
Thought the valiantly wandering refugees as
A threat to your quiet life?
I ******* dare you
To look their people in the eyes and tell them
They could be suspected of being terrorists.
I suspect them of being nothing but humans,
Because assuming the worst from not one, but
An entire population--
What kind of logic is that? And
What kind of heart do you have that cannot see
People in need? People that need a place,
If even temporarily, to call home?
Rather,
What kind of heart is it that you lack,
That cannot find the good in people to
Cherish as if you knew their name? And
What kind of heart is it that you lack,
That cannot open your own eyes to the dystopia that is our world
And try to help at least
One
Wandering soul

you are a universe, love
let me be just one star
in your infinite galaxies

Losing herself to the roar of a motorcycle with wings she questions;
Are you going to destroy the world?
Understandably all he did was laugh in response, but the
Girl learned to laugh as well. And she
Held on a little tighter.

Your name is as lovely
As the memories we made.

The future is undone
By the beasts of the past

a single note slips out of the chord
as the others cling to safe harmony
she turns the soundwaves to crackling lightning
she becomes the tension of a catastrophic earthquake
she pushes the limits of the dam and threatens to flood
she is dissonance
and she will hold out before her resolution

I gave you a warm meal
   You called me nice
I gave you a roof for the night
   You called me kind
I gave you a bed and a fleece blanket
   You called me compassionate
I gave you a set of clean clothes
   You called me thoughtful
I gave you money for necessities
   You called me generous

You said thank you
I called you a saint

You are a starchild, born from
the heavenly bodies and all
their celestial love affairs; You
twinkled among the stars and
owned the universe with them,
and yet you came down to
Earth and instead took over
my heart. And you say you
don't remember any of that as
we lay under the planets, but
when I look into your eyes I
see a galaxy. You shine with
a supernatural sort of radiance
that I can't believe to be earthly
and I am awful at science but
when you speak to me, astronomy
makes sense. The universe makes
sense. And you say that, just as
birds and clouds and humans
die, stars eventually die out too.
Our time is short but, darling, we
are infinite. We've become our own
universe. We threw away our mortal
selves when we realized this and
embraced this fleeting moment we
have together; stories never die and
neither will ours. And you say you
want to take me to your place,
among the asteroids and nightlights.
Yesterday I would have said, "No,
I'm afraid of the dark" but mapping
the unknowns of outer space with you,
surely we will become constellations.
And besides, I already am in heaven;
after all, that is what love is, isn't it?

She’s drilled holes into her temples
And tried to pull out memories with her bitten fingernails
She’s recited everything she’s said and heard
Into a ***** toilet bowl every night on the hour
She’s weeped a million times over
From her eyes and from her wrists,
But the thing about remembering is that you don’t forget--

And now the scars left over can’t scab
The phrases are written in morse code on her body
Her will has been evicted along with her soul
And she’s become zombified, a living piece of parchment
From which she’s tried so hard to erase the words
But the thing about remembering is that you don’t forget--

The sound of a voice tears hers apart every day
And the words they form she’s come to despise
So she’s taken up book burning,
Making every letter ever aimed at her head run for their lives
She’s even made her own name take off, and now she’s
Desperately pleading for eternal silence to be her savior
But the thing about remembering is that you don’t forget--

So when you see her in the hallways, she pretends she’s invisible,
Pretending that her presence won’t have any meaning to it,
Pretending that she’s not important enough to be noticed,
Because her motto is fake it
Until you make it.
But the thing about remembering is that you don’t forget--

And the ones that have told her she’s not good enough,
That she’s better off dead and no one will care,
They laugh at her and then they forget.
They come back around the next day to laugh at the same joke.
She looks in the mirror and tries to laugh like them,
Laughing so much, she begins to cry,
But the thing about remembering is that you don’t forget--

So when you hug her and tell her it’s alright,
That you love her and tell her she’s worth more than life itself,
Sing it to her, so she won’t forget.

At 2 am broken thoughts
Seeped out of my skin and soaked the bedsheets
At 1 am writing diary entries
Because happy things happened and
Forgetting sadness requires remembering happiness
At 12 am on the computer
Wasting away life for a lack of motivation,
Becoming motivated,
And then self loathing for wasting life
At 11 pm drawing a picture
(Because someone else wanted it)

The things i really want
They are scattered in between the carpet
And peel and tear at my feet when i walk across it
At 2 am im a broken thought

When will the day come
That I can call you
A distant memory

Besides,
It's the nickname you've given me
While forgetting all the other names
That you'd whisper to me

As we were holding hands
And laughing at the clouds above us,
Drifting away as if they hadn't heard

Now I wish those clouds would've stopped moving
So we could've spent our little eternity together
And if not that much, I wish
You could push my hair behind my ear in the wind
And if not that much, I wish
That you could have at least wiped my tears away

Before you drifted away, too

she reaches out before her,
gazing longingly into the sky,
and draws her arms back to her side.
her chest rises and falls.
her feet begin to push against
the ice and she glides like
a dove riding atop a gentle breeze.
she crosses her steps with elegance and
swiftly flies to the end of her terrain.
as she turns to return,
her knees dip and spring,
propelling her into the air.
her legs cross at her ankles
and she becomes a twisting airplane.
her feet find a landing on her thin blade.
she leans into the center of the rink,
clutching her leg,
and spins with a slow, melodic grace.
as she lowers into a crouch, her tempo rises,
and she becomes a brilliant storm on ice.
again she rises and she strikes a stellar pose, head high--
she tells her audience
the queen has arrived,
and she wears ice skates.

Two broken hearts
When they come together
They bleed out
From their fresh scabs
And they turn black
As the warmth from them
Trickles down
Dripping scarlet
Into our thoughts
And into our sanity
And we look down
At our intertwined fingers

As we scratch the backs of
Each other's heavily scarred hands
A murmur, our words
So porous and empty
They're carried away by the wind

"I love you"

sometime i suppose
God created the horizon line at the end of the world
and He made it so that
we were unable to see past it

but what He did not know
was that we are dreamers, us poets
we saw the horizon line and chased after it;
when we got tired, we sat down and
dreamt of life beyond the horizon
and we put it to words,
music to our tongues and
sweet love to our world

The ones that were left behind
Began to kick at my shins
And they bled and bruised blue
But all that fell were tears
And my apologies

Forgive me, I've been a stranger
But deep down I've drowned
And coming up for air is a hassle
But I'm still watching from afar

Please wait for me
Please don't look at me like that
Please hear me when I say these
Two words, tumbling out like
******* birds, thirsty for the taste
Of cotton candy clouds

And please accept me,
Those not-so-forgotten friends of mine

Someone save me from
Falling into the rhythm
Because surely
I will lose myself in it

i close my eyes . . .
your lips brush mine like a dream
your fingertips lay on mine
as a musician's before he plays a masterpiece
a whisper wafts around my hair,
toying with it lovingly
i suppose that's when i realized
reality is a daydreamer's playground
and you are my best friend.
we hold hands like
we don't want to let go but even if we do we never really do
and we run like our legs are trying to catch up
with our heartbeats--
i always run a little faster with you.
music sounds like your laughter over the phone at 2 am
and your footsteps beside me
and your endless ways of saying "i love you."
you are my greatest symphonies and my
most quiet hums.
you are an unbreakable pinky promise.
you are a dream and you are
all the stars and constellations that adorn my night sky

the night unfolds elegantly
i wedge myself again in between
its elegance and my weary thoughts
i imagine wishing for silly things
on the passing shooting stars
but if i snap back to reality
i remember that one wish i keep on wishing
and i look out my window
waiting for a star to come by and hear me
the night is too elegant
for such a wish,
such thoughts,
as mine

today i wore a new perfume
with the warmth of vanilla
and a hint of lavender
i wonder, if i were to
hold you close to me,
would you find it comforting

or should i just tell you
where i got the perfume?

i wonder what your name
looks like in my handwriting
if i weren't as shy as i am
i would have overcrowded a notebook
just of the way your i's are dotted
what frightens me is that
your hands don't agonize over my name
don't at least motion the symbols in the air
much less write them
and i wonder what my name
looks like in your handwriting
if you curl the e the same i would curl yours
or if you bestow your personal touch upon it
either way it would look beautiful
i would adore any name you'd write for me

i wonder what your name
looks like in my handwriting
but honestly i worry that
i cannot do it justice

your flowers are beginning to bloom
in my heart,
and i know that i shouldn't fall in love
because weeding it out will be too hard,
but alas,
your flowers are too colorful
and aromatic and
captivating,
i can't help but
lose myself in you.
and i want so desperately to
brush your petals softly with my fingers,
but i almost would rather
watch from afar
in fear of ruining the entire garden.

and i don't know if you're much for gardening
but if my flowers sprout within you,
let me know

5 lies I used to believe as a kid.
1) Santa Claus is real, and he visits every child’s home on Christmas Eve,
Delivering presents all around the world.
I guess he is real, though in my eyes he only comes to
One house and prefers Indian food to cookies.
2) Fast food is bad for you.
I mean, it’s definitely bad for your body,
But it is like a bowl of blended greens
For your soul.
It’s a spiritual experience to get your food through a window in a bag.
3) I’m not good at the flute.
See, one day in the 5th grade we played with some
Band instruments and got stickers if we did well.
I did not get the flute sticker and I supposed it was a
Sign from God telling me the flute life wasn’t my life.
I guess I forgot that effort builds talent,
And practice makes perfect; everyone has potential.
4) Everyone is as they seem.
I see all the colors in the human rainbow but underneath that layer
I guess some people hide behind brittle plastic.
I wonder how their blood flows through their veins,
And I wonder if their blood runs warm or if it’s a cold cry for help.
5) The world is innocent.
As a kid I thought the Earth loved everyone equally,
Like 1) Santa Claus is real and 2) Fast food is bad for you
But turns out that once you put on a few more years,
Grow a foot or two, gain some weight on you,
The world reveals itself to be a battlefield, and you realize the truth.
Things like 3) Everyone’s not good at something whether it’s
The flute or this constant battle for confidence against society.
Things like 4) Everyone has a plastic layer of some kind whether it
Conceals their vile warfare or thinly protects them from
3) The negative thoughts that tie people into knots.
These truths against these lies make me wonder if
1) Santa Claus ever really existed,
Even in the minds of children;
But between nice and naughty there may be hope yet
Before the Earth falls into coal.

Your tears
Are glass
And you
Are a diamond

i know i said i'm agnostic.
i've said that for the past 6 years...
but i feel that i've lost it
and today i need a listening ear.
i don't know where i'm going,
and where i've gone doesn't matter.
i rise but then i fall knowing
i'll just end up shattered.
i worry that what i have isn't sufficient.
while others keep a steady pace forward,
i freeze, lose sight of my ambitions,
and i'm locked in a dark corner.
i study, i practice, i study, i practice,
i forget how to relax,
i wish i could fade to blackness,

but i remember to stand tall.
if i stand with good posture,
chin high, i might not fall.
in this world i have to conjure
some hope from somewhere.

i know i said i'm agnostic,
but this is a letter to You.
i am trying to find a place in this world
that i can call mine.
please, grant me the strength to
discover it.

a letter is just a piece of paper
and ink is just a mess if it falls off a table
these are incredibly simple things but
i want to make them special
and special is a very broad term but
i mean as special as that burning, flaming desire to
give other people our entire lives worth of special

so if i shape the mess into words
and i craft the paper into a message
could you understand what special truly means to me
could you realize it encompasses all that you are
and could you hold me the way
pieces of paper soak up ink and
symbols soak up meaning and
romantic daydreamers soak up beautiful fantasies

with this burning, flaming desire i’ve lit the candlestick at both ends
crafting carefully the contents of my heart
into this letter for you.
and in calligraphy, too.
because i want to shape the ink to fit
the curves of your lips when you smile
and the creases of the paper to bend
your heart into knots like mine,
and you could imagine your favorite word
in my handwriting
and sometimes the meaning of special will be me
just as much as it is you

a lovely girl
must be proper
but absurdity lies
in between her precious
smile and her breathtaking
poise and her scrumptious
hips and her plump
******* and her delightful
porcelain doll legs and arms

if you consider perfection worthy
of your eye then you may as well embrace
sorrowful nights in solitude.
at this point, you're enthralled by
mere fantasy, an abominable image
of the real life woman.

the loveliest of maidens resides in
every single girl
if you have not been taught that yet,
what are your flawless dreams but
simply dreams

The first time I opened my eyes I learned that the world
Wasn’t just the world I saw in my mother’s womb.
Up until then I was just feeding off of another person,
But I was growing stronger for that very moment.
Until then I was sheltered off from the real world to develop
In a safe haven.
The first time I felt the outside air I learned that the world
Wasn’t warm and protecting like my mother was.
But you see, even though I was just a newborn baby,
The youngest person on the planet for a split second,
I could breathe on my own. I could swallow on my own.
And the first time I tasted my first bit of food,
I tasted a whole ‘nother world dancing a tango with my tongue.
She was a bit clumsy on her feet but we had fun anyways,
And soon enough I grew accustomed to this world as well.
Then came the first time I stood on my own two feet.
It was one small step into yet another new world,
And one big leap into understanding the one world that was made up
Of all these littler worlds.
I could run from one universe to another by myself,
And it sounds a bit scary, but I got used to this after a while.
From there came the biggest eye opener of my life,
When I learned to read and write.
It was from those roots, the ones my mother gave me as she read me bedtime stories,
That I acquired the key to a myriad of other worlds.
It was from there that I learned how to open my eyes every day
And see a brand new world to devour with my insatiable curiosity.

what a beautiful thing it is to have loved,
before winters demise and thoroughly through spring
but before i plucked petals from the flower-- i already knew
and yanked the flower from its roots
because you trampled all over them. My prince,
you trampled over them as i held you at the
summit of mount olympus.
i opted to put that very flower in my hair and
ran away singing,
what a beautiful thing it is to have loved.

As we fight for freedom
We become the American Dream

summer sun and bone chilling ice pops
have nothing on the rollercoaster that you are
and ive wanted nothing more than to
hang on as tight as i can
from the stomach dropping incline to the
furious rolling of the car down its tracks
that initial piercing scream as gravity conducts its magic
and the sensation of free falling through its loops and turns
but equally those quiet moments where
the ride slows to a gentle suspension
theres nothing i want more than to
feel those things with you even when
the ride ends
and we have to hold each others sweaty hands
wandering through crowds of amusement tourists in the middle of july

the man who lives at the top of the mountain
does not know of the life at the root of his tree.
he needs not strain himself to touch the clouds,
and has never found himself in such a position.
from atop his throne at the summit, he peers
at the world, sitting alongside his feet, and he
snickers. such a man could have a heart of
unwavering ignorance, built by the icy castle
he stands upon. and thus, it was necessary for
Fate to push him off his mighty pedestal . . .

and suddenly, he was not king of the world.
he found that every human
was the same as he, but so vastly varied as well;
their hearts chimed of their own accord,
but together at the same time;
their voices were strong alone and
powerful when congregated;
their eyes met the colors of the rainbow
and found those same colors within themselves;
and the sky was, alas,
too far to reach.
and what, may you ask, did they do?
they have done as you have,
laughing at the patterns of the clouds,
gazing at the messages of the stars,
and determination filled their veins
as they sought to reach the sky in their own ways.
a single mother sends her first child to college;
a doctor manages to save a life;
a couple or more find eternal love;
a single person chooses life over death at the edge of a bridge.

and it was in these ways that the man learned,
his mountain was the flattest plain in the world.
the mountains lived within people, and there
his icy castle gave way to a little bit of
hope,
a little determination.
and he gazed at the sky the same way they did.

i'm afraid that
i'll have all the words
to a love poem in my head
but no one to give them to

the clock ticks past twelve.
a new day comes across the horizon,
and with bags hanging from my eyes,
i laugh and continue working

i cut my hair off once
i used to feel the ends tickle my back
but then i ran my fingers through my hair and
reached my shoulders.
i held my head higher and stood taller.
see
there's a saying that when you cut your hair short
you get a new beginning.
once those frayed ends are let loose,
a new life opens its doors for the new you.
but i didn't see a new door so
i cut it again and
now its too short for my liking.
and i hold the door shut.
i guess i have to grow it out again before
i try anything else with it.