P* erception of perfection you peep through,
Pasty pallid skin, polished and hairless too.

O rifices overloaded with objects inserted,
Onus on organs contorted and inverted.

R ated R for restricted but,
Revered in every racing, raving heart.

N o escape, never real, a never-ending reel,
Note now how it is the act and the squeal, never the feel.



I t is its own doom, on a breakfast platter, glittering,

S erving your imagination an unforgettable, unfulfilable fantasy.



A lways present to build a prison cell and still calls you free.



T rue to itself but a lie nevertheless,

R uinous rapture you have there, rupturing a future,

A way from the light to higher heights of depravity fly,

P ursue a mirage, put on its chains now.


Did you fall too?
I was hoping you'd give me a hand.

The day I put a mirror to my heart, To find out who I really was,
This world didn't change me, it didn't burn me with its flame,
No! I gave in to it, And once again I had no one else blame.

By now most of you know now,
This is your story too,
And no matter how much we draw and paint it red, green and blue,
We just can't fake it anymore.
It's still just cardboard world,
Yearning to be burnt down.

Laying awake at ungodly hours,
I've often stared into a ceiling that I reflexively believed to be present.

But, whenever I did find myself at leisure from sweating and sleeping,
it was always too dark to make sure that the roof was still there. And this invoked a primal fear within me.

If you need to ask why I felt afraid, you've never been a father.

A father closer to the grave than any of the naive goals he'd set for himself as a child.
A father who had traded his breath and blood for bread and a burrow.
*This uncertain roof, often made me ask, "Has it been worth it?"

Strutting feathers,
Nose I hold in high contempt of all things,
Look at this preening fool in bad weather,
And find in me a little piece of nothing.

A hole, another null area, a void,
A reciprocal infinity, a tranquillity internally collapsing,
A black space within my darkest face ,
One never acknowledged publicly.

Therein lay the worst thoughts 'never' had,
It is the place where my Nothing hides,
You have one too.
Have you found it yet?
Please read on only when you do,

This Void never really goes away,
And I fed it, in the hope of making it disappear,
Threw at it all that money can buy,
And all that it couldn't,
But at the end came to a realization,
That Everything you do has an effect on this hell hole,
But nothing you do, will ever decrease it,
Your only hope remains in keeping it constant and bearable,

*For this is the meaning of life,
Keeping this Nothing from becoming you.

I waited for the green line,
To dance and dance in time.

I waited for a smile to show,
Above the cold stethoscope.

I waited for the white cloth,
To rise and fly like a newborn moth.

I waited for this coffin to move,
And dance to our favorite tune.

I waited for the headstone to be a prank,
Of your imaginative think tank.

I waited for the reverie of your voice,
To tease me for staring out of the window,
So much so that it's the only thing I do,
To wait for you is all I know


All lifelong I waited for you to be heavensent,
Waiting for you is all I know now,
Who saw that in the end,
It would be you waiting for me somehow.

It is one of the fifty five ways to find a friend,
Do they plead ignorance when you need it the most?
Do they hold up that gentle facade till the very end?

When you don't need reality,
Do they make it go away with something witty?

Even with grief and sorrow written all over their faces,
Do they laugh , laugh and laugh, till they don't have to hide their tears?
Do they call you home when you are moping in your dark spaces?

Can they hide their sorrow,
To Make you forget your fated tomorrow?

Their eyes may wrinkle a little lesser each time they smile,
Their voices may not quite seem to be fully existent,
But you are still taken by their mirth, as a balm for a while.

*Oh how I pity the departing soul that doesn't have friends that they didn't buy,
But how much more pity I have, for those whose friends cannot lie.