The sunlight lingers -
travelling miles just to greet me

The bitterness in my coffee -
a quiet reminder to break free

The cat curling up beside me-
a silent keeper of my peace

The hues on my frames-
unfolding secrets buried inside of me

The smell in old libraries-
dusty chapters of my memories

The fragmented thoughts of my spirit-
making me want to live


The gravity of mundane things -
whispering the quiet joys of simply being

You are drowning me with your negativity                                                       ­                                               
Coming off you like waves soaking me                                                               ­                    
                                                                ­                                                          
I look for the sunshine, I long to see,                                                             ­   
                                                                ­                                                        
feel it's rays on my face & be happy                                                            ­            
                                                    ­                                                                 ­ 
You are the darkness, I need the light                                                            ­    
                                                                ­                                                      
You feed off me like a vampire at night                                                            ­        
                                                        ­                                                       
 Slowly draining me of my energy                                                           ­                 
                                               ­                                                               
Leaving me feeling weak & empty                                                            ­      
                                                          ­                                                            
You were a dark soul when we met                                                              ­                                
                                ­                                                                 ­               
That I couldn't help you, I regret                                                           ­             
                                                                ­                                            
You've one foot in the grave & one on my chest                                                
           ­                                                                 ­                                
You've taken my all & stolen the rest                                                      
                                                                ­                                                      
A dried-up flower I have become                                                           ­                                               
                                                                ­                                                  
 my beauty & scent are long gone

I'm not sure I'd call it fun for it often has me undone but I'm a writer
I could bite off my own tongue and still my silence would be sung through pen and paper
1000 stories in my mind if I could only find the time to speak my truth
This is not a simple ryhme listen as it takes hold, blossoms and explodes
This is my proof
But my words come tumbling out
spilling jumbled from my mouth in perfect chaos
I sift through the disorder
As I struggle against the borders that contain me
One day I'll find the words to explain how I see

Lost in their own message hidden among the wreckage is the importance of all the lies unknown to you

My mind interrupts my day whenever it has something to say and I can't fight it

100 years
Not enough
To settle into
Wrinkling bag-

No sooner wisdom
Calms the mind

We are found out

And gone

When your heart is feeling tired and full in all its parts,
It's me that will help you, baby, I'll carry your heart.
When your heart is feeling heavy and it's full of a load to bear,
It's me, love, I'll carry your heart with so much care.
When your mind is racing and you don't know which way to go,
It's me, Ray, I'll carry your heart to lessen your load.
When you struggle with your decisions, your heart should take,
It's me, Ray, I'll help. I'll carry your heart when you need a break.
When you just need to know that you're truly not alone within your heart,
Baby, it's me, I'll always carry your heart as long as you let me; we won't break apart.

i don’t know why i haven’t grown tolerance to this pain. this habit. i’m totally self aware. i don’t want it to end. it still hurts just as much as it did a year ago. we were better a year ago. this aches in every way i never wanted it to. i don’t know why i can’t let go of something i was never even fully trusted to hold onto. it’s an illusion. why do you always leave the door open when you leave? while we’re at it, could you tell me just how many shared laughs we need to complete our prophecy?
& honey, wait,
is that really what you mean?
please baby,
just ******* spell it out for me.
I never thought i could be this tired. this weak. you’ve left me as a fragment of the woman i used to be.

I don’t have the 𝗘𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗴𝘆
I don’t have the 𝗧𝗶𝗺𝗲
But you’re so young, you’re at your prime

It will fly right before your eyes
What’s next?
Soon you’ll say I don't have the 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗱

Be ready to say "goodbye"
When you have the guts to say "hello"

आर आर रॉयल भ्रम भये
एल एस जी लूटा मैच
जीता क्रेज क्रिकेट का
यही था कल का सच।
अच्छी थी व्यवस्था
अच्छा शाम माहौल
एक तरफ चीयर लीडर्स
एक तरफ हल्ला बोल।
दो-चार फोटो, दो-चार सेल्फी
खरीदो भूगड़ा भी तो लगे जेब हल्की
ज्यों -ज्यों घूमे कैमरा
भीड़ संभाले अपना रोल
दाल-बाटी, चूरमा हवा उचारे बोल।
एस एम एस स्टेडियम
दमके ज्यों दुल्हन नूर
मोबाइल की टॉर्च  "ओन"कर-कर
के लगा भीड़ देख रही कोई हूर।।


Saw the RR Vs LSG match at SMS Stadium Jaipur by going at stadium and expressed the feelings as about the ambience.

Reading is
the hardest thing

It is work of experiencing
value of existence

and its high and low

So
as we get older

we distance ourselves from reading

and only a few

still fall in love with reading
more and more
as the days go by

Spring, summer, fall, and winter

Oh! Reading,
a privilege unique to humans.

The Lord,
My Lord,
The Lord,
My God,
God God,
G…O…D,
God God.
IS All,
God,
IS,
Every,
Day,
Every,
Thing!
The Lord!
My Lord!

I'd walk &/or have
2 parked train cars
ready for your
drunk ***—

Your scant scabby lawn
made such a sight but
you're yet to see my bedroom
so I'm free of judgment
see

all clothes a mess or
clean myself up
I will there, sometime
&
that might be that

&
that is too gooey good
for me.

There are men whose names are not remembered,
but whose breath stirs the veil between realms.

They possess no oxen, no golden inheritance,
only the weight of many souls carried in silence—
some wrapped in tenderness,
some lost to hunger,
some gifted to them like riddles in human skin.

Their wealth is not measured in coin,
but in what they’ve been asked to hold,
and in how long they choose to hold it
after the fire comes.

One such man lived,
not in Uz or Ur,
but in the crease between battle cries and bedtime prayers.
He walked beneath the eye of heaven
and bore a covenant that no one else could see—
except perhaps the ones who left him.

Among the names he carried
was a flame
so luminous,
the watchers behind the veil turned their gaze sideways
and whispered to one another:

“That one—she is worth a thousand hills.”

---

And so began the unraveling.

The girl became a gate.
A field.
A kingdom in peril.

And the shadows,
long held at bay by her breath and memory,
moved to claim her under the guise of delight.
They clothed themselves in cadence,
anointed her with affirmation,
and crowned her with a chorus of well-crafted lies.

She smiled—
because what is possession
when it feels like belonging?

---

In another place,
the man who carried her name
did not break.

He did not rage.
He did not plead.

He simply stood
in the dirt he was formed from
and remembered that God had once
breathed into clay.

He wrote.
Not to win.
Not to fight.

But to remain.

And something in that stillness—
that refusal to perform—
became a mirror.

A mirror so polished,
so unbearable in its clarity,
that the shadows who came to feed
began to see their own faces
reflected in the place they hoped to claim.

---

The cattle were not lost.
They were transfigured.
The sons were not dead.
They had become winds.
And the daughters?

The daughters returned
only when no one chased them.

---

The man’s armor was not steel.
It was witness.
It was the quiet weight of staying.
Of being the one who did not run
when every echo told him to fall.

He bore the shape of a shield
not forged by war,
but by worship.

A shield of shining dirt.

And it gleamed not because it was flawless—
but because it remembered the breath
that first made it rise.

---

Let the hills be counted.
Let the goats be wild.
Let the watchers name what they will.

But know this:

There are men who will stand in silence
until the storm mistakes them for stone.
And in that stillness,
there are things that shift beneath the veil—

not because they are provoked,

but because they have been
seen.

Thinking

I’m always thinking about

Every word you say
To me

I scrutinize, dissect, gut

Every word you say
To me

I’m thinking that maybe
I’m over-thinking

Every word you say
To me

Maybe I need

To
Just
Silence
your
voice.

Let's wake, let's work,
Let's earn, let's save,
Let's have life of a slave.
Let's sleep, let's dream,
Let's spend, let's waste,
Let's become a lazy prince.
Whether we have life of a prince
Or we have life of a slave ,
Journey ends there ,
In a Puzzle Gate .
Oh Gate!! Oh Gate!!
Oh Gate!! Oh Gate!!

Sometimes the Gate is red,
Sometimes the Gate is green ,
There is standing a guard ,
Seems like a divine being .
Puzzle keys are in his hand,
Curtain up in his command.
Question- color of the Gate ?
It it green or is it red?
Even in front of the Gate,
The color some can't tell.
Oh Blind!! Oh Blind!!
Oh Blind!! Oh Blind!!

Mark my words, 
Tear them to shreds,
Slivered, gilded and etched,
Stretched out on my sleeve,
Where all to see,

Some writ or some ditty,
Character flaws,
Dumb, dazed, flights of fancy,
For all your deaf egos, 
Let me finish a **** sentence,

Time for a feast
she looked over and exclaimed
oh my! look at that fat ugly cow
sitting here
I much prefer goats
Are vows, declarations not allowed?
I left the table sad
went outside
staring at the  butterfly
sitting on my nose

I wake up to,
the cool wind that gently blows
as the fog hides the sun that glows.

I wake up to,
the smell of jasmine that blooms everyday
and to see the colourful flowers that never betray.

I wake up to,
the birds chirping,
to the leaves that sway like the girl I met the other day.

I wake up now to,
my beautiful girlfriend
whom even on her worst days
is no less than the most beautiful flowers.

I wake up to,
next to the most gorgeous girl,
to be with her the next life I shall pray.

I wake up to,
spread love, not hate.

I wake up to,
make the most of these beautiful days,
and to accept death is as crucial as birth.

I wake up to,
realise that all the drama shall play
but when comes the day,
we all shall lay in a grave.

Hush, it's raining.
Heaven's cleaning the earth
with its gentle brush,
anew.

i want to peel your skin back
and reveal your deepest sweetness.
to look at your veins
and memorize their paths.
maybe then i’d understand
why you are so rough on the outside.
it takes a lot of work,
digging your fingernails into the flesh,
pulling and pulling until you are bare.
but it is all worth it;
to visit your center,
to break past what conceals you,
and take you apart
slice by slice.

i think the
irony

befits such an
ending -

you,
settled

me,
altered

permanently
unsettled

a trace of
you forever

running through
my veins

If you're askin' yourself, "How do you know?"
Then that's your answer, the answer is "No"
You know when you're in love.
It's unmistakable.
Undeniable.
So, if you have to ask yourself if you're in love,
then you're probably not.

Let it fall away—
The distractions and
The faulty imitations
Of our world—

Your love becomes
A field of peace,
Empty of all I have
Used to replace You.

It begins to rain.
Soft, red droplets,
Falling on my nose
And cleaning the 

Soot on my skin.

It is a flood of
Grace only making
The wildflowers
Bloom brighter, the
Sun burn deeper, and
My heart feel more
Real in my chest.

I breathe in, knowing
The clouds cannot
Hold His love, nor
Stop His blood from
Covering us.

The young sits outside in his car
His thoughts occupy him
The young girl awaits behind the door
She's no good girl
And he knows it
Her bewitching eyes and luscious curves
Had cast a spell on him
She's a cheat and a liar
Yet she lies in his Lair

It’s not my fault or hers
It’s the man's fault for being a perv
But no, let's blame the woman
For just existing and turning

“There’s a cow at the table,” I whispered, not wanting to be rude.
It’s horns curled like question marks, which seemed quite Apropos
Now that I’ve been to college, I can tell you, there’s a lot that I don’t know.
But a cow at the table, no matter how well dressed, left me, well, confused.
“How do you Dooooo?” I offered, friendships should begin straightforwardly.
When it didn’t answer, I thought, “Well this friendship’s starting off awkwardly.”
Was it hard of hearing? I wondered. “Have you mooooved here recently?” I asked, loudly.
Again, nothing, it just sat there proudly. Did it take my attempt at dialect, as a sign of disrespect?
“Would you like some fooood? I asked, “Some hay maybe?” I was guessing, but it was a guest.
Some friendships start out slowly, but holy-moley, was this livestock trying to troll me?
After some aggravation, and impatience, it turned out to be an elaborate, fraternity initiation.
.
.
*Based on Leonora Carrington’s painting “Then We Saw the Daughter of the Minotaur.”
https://www.moma.org/artists/993-leonora-carrington

Oh, dove prima al limite del giorno
s'appiattava una forza ordinatrice,
quale scoscendimento pauroso
che mi rimonta sulla stessa ruota,
sulla ruota del giorno e del tormento?
E dove il digiuno di un incontro
rovesciare codeste verità?
Ah, fantasmi di te, mille fantasmi
arsi di sete, tutti, alla mia fonte!
Una forza stranissima si insinua
nelle mie labbra docili e le incurva;
io ruoto, sento, sul mio desiderio
schiava di un magnetismo che mi ha vinta.
La corsa dopo invaderà il mio corpo
che la esercita in sé, nel suo tormento,
per superare ciecamente il solco
dove tu, assente, non puoi più fiorire.
Ardo di mille musiche diverse,
ma dove è tempo di un incontro nuovo,
resiste il "poter essere" di te.

people keep telling me to text him less,
dont reply immediately,
let him search for me,
let him call me first,
but why?
why do i have to show less love to be treated properly?
when i have all the love inside me to give?
even if it will end up hurting me one day,
it will be his loss at the end of the day,
because why?
he didnt realize that someone was capable of loving him more than he could ever give to himself,
and i am not ashamed of loving.