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And when the time comes my tears won't be falling like rain for it will be warm tea and fresh honey streaming down my cheeks.
I hope one day I will bathe in sunflowers and new love - I'm tired of the dead leaves that burden my body, they soak in like fresh coconut on my skin.
I sit underwater where time stops for a second, and I am at peace. I hope one day I can run into rushing waterfalls without begging for that moment of altered reality. I hope one day I bathe in roses instead of my sorrows.
What do you hope for?
 Sep 2018 Ankit J Chheda
Renee
I'm sure I look fine.

Days like today,
I want to strip the skin
From my forearms
Using only my fingernails.

Days like today,
I want to wring out
My legs like a washcloth,
Squeeze the rolls on my stomach
Until they're empty.

Days like this,
I want to walk away from my body
forever.

I'm sure I look fine.
be ever gentle to thy words
treat them, your tools, well,
cleansing and protecting,
wrapping them in cloths of chamois and moleskin
that they may be well conditioned and
pour forth with a temperament clear and viscous,
reflecting their high honors and a noble lineage,
they are well-intentioned to exist far longer
than your meager temporal life,
upon this ever hasty, ever perpetual, orbit

give them all respect, their fair due,
they are treasure immeasurable,
for which you have been granted guardianship,
custody received from others to be gifted onwards,
yours, but for the duration

so oft we trifle words,
expel them from the country of our body,
without passport and earnestness,
as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler,
day tourists, to be treated as leavings,
refuse for daily discardation,
barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance,
but leaving not, a mark of distinction

more truffle than trifle,
find them in the dark forest of your life,
use them sparingly, just for soaring,
take them from the roots of your trees,
shave them with a paring knife,
counts them in bites and measure them in grams,
even in grains,
for words are the seasoning of our lives,
agent provacateurs that can modify the moment,
bringing out to the fore
the flavor of the underlying

speak them slow and distinct,
for they arrive slow to you,
a trickling of refugees for your sheltering,
harbor them as full companions,
protected by natural law,
provision them well,
prepared and ever ready for a quick departure,
moor them at the embarcadero,
for the next restless leg of endlessness,
which they themselves will inform you
will last longer than eternity,
long after there are no humans to speak them
Oct. 6, 2015
4:30am
Manhattan Island
 Jun 2018 Ankit J Chheda
Erica
Spongebob Squarepants

     .--..--..--..--..--..--.
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_.'  .' |     '-.-'      /-.
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.' '-.' '.|='=.='=.='=.='=|.
/_ '-'.'
'-.  '.  |_/__|    '-.'
  .'   ).| '=' '='\/ '=' |
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   LGB ||.-.   ||.-.
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) (.--)



Squidward

          .--'''''''''--.
       .'      .---.      '.
      /    .-----------.  \
     /        .-----.        \
     |       .-.   .-.          |
     |      /   \ /   \      |
      \    | .-. | .-. |    /
       '-.| | | | | | |.-'
           | '-' | '-' |
            _
/ _/
         .-'  /   \  '-.
       .' .--|     |--. '.
       ' ...-|     |-... '
              |     |
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.'
                | |
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              /( )/\
             /  ' '  \
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         '..'| .-. |'..'
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  LGB   '. | | | .'
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       /o  o\ .'   '. /o  o\
       '..'       '..'
♡ just felt like writing this cause my profile is kinda sad so yeahhhh love you all ♡
 Dec 2017 Ankit J Chheda
Jay
Damaged people love you like a crime scene
Before any crime had been committed
They kept their running shoes right next to their souls every night
One eye opened in case something changed whilst they were asleep

Damaged people love in the most broken way
Damaged people love in the most gentle way
Damaged people do not love
Damaged people love too much

Their backs are always too tense, too tight
Made this way from carrying too many broken things
Because we all know broken things are the heaviest
Just look the weight of a broken heart

Damaged people will love that too
Damaged people love broken things
Because they remind them of themselves

Damaged people take broken things
And love them to the end
Trying to find that one broken thing
That will fit their cracks.

Damaged people love so well

They love like this because they have already seen Hell
And they know that every evil demon
Was once an angel before they fell.
Words do not echo.
Words do not cry.
Words do not,
Identify.

Scrambled and stirred,
Frozen and baked.
Pulled when needed,
Eaten to be fed.

Pieced together,
Black or white,
Laugh or fight,
Wrong or right.

A sound is bound by key,
A picture by color pigments,
Emotions chemically,
But words contain,
Everything,
And absolutely,
Nothing.

The same word
Can be
Completely
Different,
Depending who, what, how
When it was read
Or written.

What if every word,
Was positive in meaning?
Harmless,
Could not
Destroy feelings.

Words have no senses.
Words have no bounds.
No touch, sight, taste, or smell.
Words have no sound.

Words have no sound.
Unless read aloud.
I write what I see,
Because I am blind.
I write what I hear,
But I am deaf.
I write what I feel,
But paralyzed.
I write what I smell,
In my burnt nose.
I write what I taste,
The only sense left,
And thank the day,
Because it can be worse.
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