I had a dream
on the road, I saw people scream
there was a little boy
sitting by the side, I saw him cry.

While everyone around was insane
like a good citizen, first I asked him his name
" I am Praful, take me to my mother"
with no idea whatsoever, I took the boy and set out for the quest

I felt I am in the matrix movie
dodging fire,stones and flying bottles, no better than a rookie
for me this was a new part of the town
and I had no idea where to go around

Relying on this boy for navigation
like he had any clue, my stupid imagination
I kept looking for a police van
but in vain, saw only angry howling men

suddenly, we heard a shriek
"Praful !! where have you been ?? "
that was the mother, and instantly the boy ran to her
and I thought its end of this bother.


holding the boy she came towards me with fury
"you rascal, trying to kidnap my son? "
the boy didn't try to explain
to him, in a moment, I became a strange someone

Helpless in this situation I ran,
again, for the police van
luckily, I found an officer
"Sir ! take me home, i don't know these roads"
"Son ! sit in my car, while I tackle these jumping, screaming toads!"
I ducked at the rear seat tensed
for I could see the mother looking for revenge

I got up, sat on the bed, what a nightmare I had
asked God, " I was just trying to help, was that bad?"

Sometimes
I wish
My father
Would trim
The shrubs
Into something
More interesting than
A ball.

It'd be cool to have
A
Unicorn
Shrub
Or maybe
A
Dolphin
Shrub
Or
A
Monkey
Shrub.

But
The only
Shrub
My dad can do
Seems
To Be
A
Ball.

I want it to rain
For a thousand days
Not a gentle drizzle
A raging storm
I want to hear the thunder
I want it to pour
Lightening stretched
Over dark skies
Will open up
My tired eyes
I want to lay on the pavement
And feel the water on my skin
And maybe
Just maybe
I'll close my eyes and pretend
That I'm laying under the rain
With you again

He smells of nothing
sometimes of trees, salt, rain, and everything pure
like moonlight
he is the colour grey under flesh, muscle and cloth
like rain; fresh, gentle yet violent
a silhouette
elusive but perhaps far more beautiful

The paths have fallen in love with your footsteps
there are cracks in the asphalt where flowers bloom
I swear they are trying to wrap themselves
around your ankles when you walk

I stopped counting
while the mountains stopped screaming
and Sohrab, you are beautiful and breathing

On mountaintops these echoes
are hollow and empty as they should be
exactly how I feel when I look at you
and how I feel when I don’t

It’s a battle of sorts
I need the reminder that there exists
the ability to feel so hard the cold will not win this war
but I know that in the end it will

I know that you are scared to breathe so deep
your ribs scrape the underside of your chest
tell me, who wants to be reminded of their ability to feel so hard?

It’s a tremor under your bones,
you’ve plunged your hand into your chest
to stop the heaving, the hurling, the surging
but everything is fading violently,
spiralling
in a decadent whirl of stubborn silence,
clenched teeth
and eyes that refuse to meet

Nothing, I am nothing

Hello again Fly,
It's nice to see you so soon,
I hope you're happy.

I too am happy,
I see you're alone this time,
Is there something wrong?

No, I understand.
We don't need company to
Allow us to be.

Content.
Happy.
Sad.

How you feel is based
On what you have done for you
Isn't that right, Fly?