If I was your date, I'd try to be sweeter
than any other fruit, hotter than the land,
that grows me, stickier, than
chewing gum, and honey.

If I was your date, I'd remind you that,
You can't have me for more than a day,
for I'm a polyamorist, I love everybody.
I'd remind you that I could be your last,
someday, any day. But that shouldn't,
stop you from loving me, right now.

If I was your date, I would share
my gaze of you, in the silent reflections,
of my convex eyes,
tell you that on this date,
you are the only 01.01.01

I remember the first time
Somebody held my hand
to spell you right in fourth grade
and in a better handwriting.

She had a long braid
that dillydallied in the law of inertia
and a mad boy
instead of playing with us
kept rushing after her.

Of little things that I remember
and I share this trait with Stephen King,
Petrichor is how you're recognized widely,
but I smelt you between the cracks of my cement roof,
my sweat when started pestering me
despite your elongated water droplets
trying to win over my body

Your shyness, which shows in your hurry
to touch the ground as soon as possible
is fought back by the shine that you give
to a lush green mountain pasture
suddenly finding itself bathed after days
like boys and girls in colleges
topped by a ray of hope
to not get exposed
to the winds that might block your nose.

Rain, Bangalore makes you unbearable
so I quit my job to come back
to where you belong best, in the
sounds of my hair being stroked
and brushed by a hand, subtle,
like a woman's hand reaching
speed of light, having converted
to energy, makeshift gestures
of sorcery, on you
coming from above,
like a snap of remembrance
of a long lost key somewhere
in the heap of clothes and underwears.

But I did mistake winds
for the sound of you
in Cubbon Park

Rain, I'm so selfish
I only talk about you
when I'm with you,
Rain, perhaps next time,
instead of writing a poem
to you, I'll just listen
to the stories you silently whisper
in the sounds of squishing
of my sole against leaky shoes

Batman joined hands with Superman,
I’m Batman, I’m Superman, I’m also
A human battling the side effects
of one of our primal instincts.

A rush of emotions, and the primal
takes control, and the mind is, but
a computer controlled by them. The
Process of yielding reasons of regrets.

A gush of pleasure vs an eternal bliss,
I find myself giving in to the former,
but I’m highly aware of the latter, and
that sources the root of all evils.

I close my eyes less often, if I’d more
often, I’d be less often exposed to
the cardinal vanities of the side effects,
of one of the primal instincts, laid.

I’m not the chemical desires of my body,
not the monkey who dances on the tunes
of emotions, not an addict to pleasure,
I’m, just that, I’m, the cosmic comic sea.

I breathe fine, so much I saw a deer kiss a lion.
I was dancing on my bed when I fell and my eyes
Perched upon the stars, the guitar felt being driven
By the magmas of undulating plasmas of creation.

The skyline, the star line , the jawline smile,
There goes a man, there! comes a child. In the
supermarket of emotions I sit down on the aisle
of mountains, plaid shirt on my chest, I breathe fine.

City of dreams, city of creams, of murmurs and screams,
there! Goes a tie and there! Goes the lie,
in the air, in the past. Down the road and on,
roads meet, cross happy and die, but
does ever a mason stop when he has been cut?

I find time losing everything in my mind
Remembering all my life is just a game.
Time, I don’t have too much time, places
I will ever find, are awaiting me.

Pretzels in the pocket got tumbled
with the pocket watch, the locket that
somebody gave to me still hangs
like the eternity of temporary end.

12 is my number, of my jersey’s, of many days
that I had such that something happened. 13th
is my father’s, and no he is not a demon.
I share it with him. I had it from him from the
league of legacy that few people take pride in having.