In the middle of the night,
Picking fights with life
My hands, paralyzed
I can't unlock the door
No air coming through
My veins, closing in
Tears on my cheeks
Can't keep focus
Where's the door
and do I want to let you in
My vision, a blur
A voice in my head
Telling me I'm dead
A loud booming from somewhere
The door seems so far
I feel a wetness in my hair, on my body, everywhere
My heart, imploding
If only I could find the door
Find a light or let you in
The walls, they're closing in
No air
Your eyes, your hands, they won't go away
I'm stuck in place
Can't push you away
All I hear is a far away hammer
Eyes squeezed shut
Can't watch what happens next
My lungs, I feel them failing
From the screaming or from the bleeding
A clawing at my throat
Begging me for breath
The door isn't there
Where is the door
I can't die
My feet start kicking
There's a pain
Like electric and like a kick in the gut
No more kicking
My hands, still useless
My eyes see dots
Can't find air
Can't find the door
Your smile
Your face coming closer
Before everything goes red
Oh god I'm dying
Keep kicking
A swoosh of wind
Finally I feel the air
But I choke
Oh god he broke me
I hear over the booming
    it'll be okay, you don't have to stay
And I so I stop trying
There's no light
There is nothing

Deep inside,
down in the dark,
they stir.
As if to say,
you can't see us but,
we're here.
You know they are,
but you try to ignore.
The stirring,
the nagging in your mind.
Deep inside,
down in the dark,
they hide.
The demons of my past,
really of my present,                                          
because they're still there,
stirring, nagging,
desperate to escape.
But I keep them locked up tight,
down in the dark,
deep inside.

Never aspired to be
some kind of untouched, blank wall—
plain, pale, and ******.

I think of artists’
hands on a living canvas—
and I get giddy.

These naked inches
hand-painted in poetry
by steady fingers.

Play me some Otis
as he sinks that ink for keeps.
Suddenly, I'm art.

Its 1 o clock in the morning,
There's too many hours in the clicking
Of that old ceiling fan.
And if it fell out of its hole,
And hit me,
Would you send flowers?
I think of bumping into you,
Somewhere big.
So nobody notices the sobs,
From both of us.
You cry because my skin is
Ugly
And I cry because your eyes are
Tired.
I wonder (1:05, why can't I sleep?)
If your smile (it never stopped)
Would falter,
With my stories of pain.
(You never stopped smiling, but
Missing you is stopping time)
(1:05)
Click, click.
Maybe I'll write you a letter.
Maybe I'll send it.
(Its 3:30)
One more word on the paper.
Sorry, and it's slanted, floating off its line
Misplaced, like I,
Before sleep.

r.c.

Before you died I didn't see your worth
You protected me, and loved me through my almost fatal birth
When I was four you were addicted and sobriety was rare
As I got older I was angry, and by angry I mean scared

I couldn't understand why you were so empty
They say you'd been that way since your cousin died when you were twenty
You always said that you were sorry for not being good enough
Eventually I understood that it wasn't your fault, and love was often rough

When you died I was certain I had lost my mind
I was bombarded by people telling me "It's okay to cry"
as if that were the answer to all my desperate pleas and prayers
I will admit that above everything I had never been so scared

When I closed my eyes visions of you haunted me
I tried to tell myself you were better now, happy, free
I slept with the lights on for days having realized my own mortality
This is a terrifying epiphany to have at seventeen

After you died we planned two funerals
You always swore you had no friends, but they were both packed
It didn't seem fair to endure your fathers funeral twice
I was poked and prodded, offered condolences by people trying to be nice

Eventually I got the nerve to walk to the podium and speak
I told them how you promised to always love me, before choking on my grief
I spoke of when you held my hand, and tucked me in some nights
Then went on to say it was not fair to take my fathers life

I still dream about you constantly
that there was some fluke and you never actually left me
Everything is alright until I wake up to find,
That you're three years lost, you're gone, you died.

Smell of rainwater on a
Warm street.
Smoke rising from
Around our feet; small fires
Between dimensions
That hold pain
And relief
Simultaneously.

There should be
(Oh my God,)
An orchestra playing
(I'm actually)
Heartbreaking music
(Losing her.)
Like in a movie,

Not just her and
Me raining away
From each other
In this ****
Silence,

Where I'd rather be
Any one of the
Other people in this
Street
That have umbrellas
Over their hearts and heads,
And are free from
Ice and fractures
On the
Inside.

Rains lashing down
The thunderous clouds
Applauding every drop
The clouds have opened up
Their hearts to bring hope
To the parched souls on Earth
The seeds have been lying dormant
It’s time for them to germinate
Covering our garden with greenery
For it will find roots in the soul
Deeply entrenched with belief
That every shower does not wreak havoc
It also ushers new life and hope*













© Amitav (Radiance)