The city of my heart, one which had closed its doors long ago.
Stands with shattered ruins cloaked in the miasma of my dread.
The forges which had gone out long ago,
Have rekindled flames burning bright.
Resurrected hope flutters against the bleak backdrop,
Its wings burning bright against the smoke.

I look at you and smile.
You look at me and gaze into my soul.
Healing it.
I want to ask you to stop,
If you look into the abyss,
The abyss shall look into you.
But my protests are silenced,
Rendered mute by the touch of your lips.
You smirk, knowing the power you hold over your knave.

Slowly, your taste sets my senses on fire,
A fire which is feral.
For a brief moment I am whole again,
Yet we must part to take a breath.
You smile and hold me in your embrace,
All shall be well, you whisper in my ear.

A thousands paths lay untrodden,
What does the never ending future hold?
All I want is that we continue our journey,
Our journey towards that eternal dream.
And never truly let go.

Maybe if the Gods grace me their favor,
Maybe we'll slip into the darkness together.
On the same breath we'll leave our mortal shells.
To be one forever more.

You've opened a door in my heart,
One I didn't know was there.
I'm here on the edge again,
Don't let me go.
In the warmth of your embrace,
I know I'm finally home.

A low grumbling noise,
Awakens the poor child,
Afraid he clutches his rags,
Alone he whimpers softly,
Trying not to wake up his dad.
Abu wasn't nice, he smelled,
And Ammi called him d-r-u-n-k.
The growling grew near,
It haunted him every night.
It kept a distance,
Yet still made him shiver from fright.
Two bright suns, the eyes of a demon,
Race past him, parting the puddles,
S-p-l-a-s-h
No longer dry, he stares blankly into the dark,
Sobs and crawls back under the plastic sheet,
Crawls back into his home.
Next to his house,
Is a glitzy place.
He has seen the Gods visit the place.
Not the ones Ammi took him to meet,
But the ones who had bones and flesh.
At times they threw nibbled ambrosia at him,
He was too hungry to comprehend the word leftovers.
Yet on his final night there was no food,
There was no omen.
No comet marked the death of those forsaken by their stars.
Two eyes blinded him,
The rest broke his petite form.
A God steps out, leans over his broken form, spits,
And cleans the filth, his blood off the hood.
An elder man looms over his broken form,
His eyes displaying a nonchalant sadness.
The God turns to his slave,
"Bansilal, you were driving the car."
And then to perhaps, himself,
"****** beggars, don't they have anyplace else to live?"

Tears streaked down his cheeks,
Why didn't they realize it hurt.
It started with a single word.
"Useless" and they killed him.

Days turned into months.
Yet his tormentors didn't let him go.
Angry, bitter, afraid and left alone,
Like arrows, the words began to pierce his soul.

Weak. Stupid. Idiot. ****.
The voices in his head,
Were no longer his friends.
Useless filth why not end it?

Left alone, with those brutal voices.
With those horrible fears,
Alone with those terrible words,
He took to the blade.

He watched the blood leave his veins,
His skin grow cold and pale.
USELESS. USELESS. USELESS.
Carved forever on his skin.

No goodbyes, no more horror.
After having written down,
All the secrets he could spill,
Before dosing on a dozen sleeping pills.

I'll tell you a story instead.
Mind you, it's a short story and gets horribly dull at times.
It's about a boy. His name is irrelevant, because his true name was dreary, dull and quire big. So more often than he made friends, he assumed names. Slowly,  burdened by the brunt of all that he was, he lost sense of who he truly was.
And then suddenly, the darkness grew tangible, swallowing him, churning everything positive into nothingness, extinguishing all the specks of light and hope he clung to, replacing it, replacing him with an abyss.
And then he was truly no longer the boy he was. To be honest, he wasn't even human anymore. Self pity stripped him of his conscience and his rage defiled his humanity. He was no more than a woven shadow, a psyche whose malicious intent was so honed that his character became a sharp blade of cold Stygian iron, forged to inflict misery.
And one night, the boy who was slumbering in the depths of the abyss woke up, to find himself alone on a hill of fresh corpses.
No more he swore.
In the name of those who suffered for the sins their race had committed, he swore that he'd change, he'd be the stranger who never stayed, an intercession in times of crisis, he'd become the boy who ran to save the lives he had no connection to.
But unfortunately, the dead told tales and the blood on his hands would never disappear. Even though he was there for people, few were there for him. And every time he lowered his defenses and allowed himself the luxury of a liaison, the world would cruelly remind him that he was merely to be tolerated. Cast out of the lives of the people he once thought he could love, he kept on running away. Imposing a self exile, he lost things that he could not even comprehend. And he's still running. Because humanity always tries to make good of its promises. Running and hoping that someday, he'd become a proper story.

The color of the night sky,
Peppered with the light of the stars,
The soft moonlight falling on me,
Is it trying to teach me the hue of sorrow?

I can see the confusion in your eyes,
You don't understand why I turn away,
Yet never seem to leave.
I wish I could tell you everything.

From the distance I have imposed,
I can see your unwiped tears.
Glittering, your eyes are so beautiful.
The words that I can't hold on to are escaping my soul.

If the world was to end,
To be consumed by fire and brimstone,
Surely in that moment of farewell you'd understand.
That without knowing your answer, my solitary heart exiled itself.

The world is too busy with itself,
The sound of sorrow can reach no one's ears.
Even then, I have a strong resolve.
On a night when my wishes are to be discarded,

I will hold my ground.
Merging with the shadows,
Becoming one with my sword,
I will protect you forever by your side.

Yet till I hold the sword,
I dare not embrace you.
Lest I hurt you, my love.
Is this the cursed existence of a shadow?

Relying on the night sky,
The river of words that bleeds out of my heart,
Shimmers in the distant horizon,
Like a thousand shattered blades.

In my life as a whole, what kind of person do you see me as?
Tonight, I merely want to hold your hand,
Even if just for this moment, I want to be in your future.

Lately I've been slipping away,
Sinking into my own darkness.
Let somehow, in those barren nights,
Your smile lit up my days.

These repeating days,
Intensify my desire for you.
Oh you do not realize what I would give,
To merely gaze at your smiles.

Yet this desire is new.
I do not lust for the taste of your lips.
The sacrilegious thought horrifies me.
All that I want is happiness for you,

With or without me.

In fact, I don't think I can ever try to claim you,
For all my bravery, seeking you out scares me the most.
Better to love you from afar,
Than to shatter my heart.

A simple reply, an answer weaved of two words,
Would scatter my essence.
I'm scared to hear you respond that way
I can't hold my ­balance, crumbling in this dilemma

In my life as a whole, what kind of person do you see me as?
Tonight, I merely want to hold your hand,
Even if just for this moment, I want to be in your future.

During the dark hours of cold night,
During the bright hours of unforgiving light,
I turn in sleep, restless and unbound to peace,
Edging away from a dream,
As Ships edge away from the safety of land into stormy seas.
And then it hits me, the mace of my memories,
The memory spike ravages, savages,
Pierces deep, deep down.
Crushes tears, and the crimson blood of my soul,
Is defiled by the salt of her tears.

Yet not today.
Today passion reigns deep in my marrow,
The f lames chastising all pain.
The heavenly fire seeps throughout each and every vein,
With each beat, my heart is once again ablaze.
It is feral and wild, the urge to create,
Which started even before the creation of time.

It rules my daily movements,
It dictates the terms.
Of my descent, of my descent into hell.
I am a mundane guy for this term I serve on earth,
A sucker for sunsets and sunrises, full moons, azure lakes, pretty beings of the fair *** and a lot many simple things.
If only anyone knew how much I love,
Cotton candy, pretty eyes, doughnuts and symmetry.

It seems for this tenure on earth,
Cupid is my fabled foe.
He sets me up for failure,
Polishes the mace of memories,
Again and again.
But it is like Krishna said.
Times of sorrow are forgotten in times of greater sorrow or joy.
I always get lost in fiery sensuous moments,  
I taste raw-things making it harder not to succumb to lustful-whims.
I relish thoughts about carnal sin, dream about intimacy between intertwined-bodies,
Yet I am composed.
I can hide those intimate thoughts,
And smile a little smile which makes me die a little on the inside.
I dare not get too close.
For it is like Dante said.
There is no greater sorrow
Than to recall a happy time
When miserable.