In search
of answers
to the questions
consuming my
soul I found
a strange light
which
disappeared with time
while the wind kept
blowing
the people kept
talking
I kept killing myself
with the thought of denial
with the sheer acceptance of
the inevitable
with a grave symbolism
with portrayal of sheer modesty
I kept numbering those letters
written by the blood
my body couldn't keep with itself
I'm about to get away
from all the sorrows
my placard says
''Greet my saviours with modesty''
I've died a thousand times.

I walk by the moon
Writing a threnody
Of the ubiquitous sublimed anger
Of the unkempt souls
My words are passing on
From one line to another
These phases are scattered
Like dandelion seeds
The zephyr diverting my attention
A pleasantly small plethora of emotions
Over flowing
With the tide
My mind ebbing to drown away
Like a sycophant
Unconsciously corrupted.

I’ve tried to

Convey a Different

Message 

Every-time
I 
Expected the sun to rise

But there are 

A set of paradigms

Which make my words

Seem incomprehensible 

Human nature 

Which makes
everything 

Look alike 

Stereotypes 

Which destroy
the aura 
Of life 

Gluttony which 

Corrupts the imbecile 
And nevertheless

Darkness which 

Collapses into my soul 

Electrifying the originality

And making everything seem

As if

They’re rewritten.

A part of those letters
Are left behind in the red cannon
A few pages of utmost sincerity
Caressing the unknown
A few instances of the unrequited love

A leaf on the ground
Her veins holding on to the clot
Blood dripping from her soul
Mice infecting the city with the plague
Thoughts destructing her mind recklessly

Two hundred dollars
The ******* looks at his face in disgust
Is the hatred unconsciously precarious on his doings
The past mocking at his present
She's grave and he's cruel

The wind tonight will not blow
Lights have been told to turn the people blind
They will all purport to be satiated
And within themselves
Die with the top notch blades cutting them straight.

Apocalyptic dreams
An ubiquitous presence of the unholy entities
I'm sitting by the riverside
My cat has suddenly started exhibiting taciturn traits
Spiders are floating with immense soigné
The bucolic setting leaves me hypnotised
I'm not used to this silence
Fishes underwater petrify my insights
I'm sitting by the riverside
Amazed by the eloquence of the obscure
My eyes seem to reflect my up bringing
The differences leave me in a state of vertigo
I hope this reverie lasts a little longer.

The battles are over. Blood has been shattered on all territories. The kaleidoscope reflects the broken dreams of the refugees. I do not wish to remain in this place. The complexity in the surroundings imbibes a negative vibe in my soul and corrupts my lungs. The weight of living is breaking my bones. My imaginative capabilities seem to vanish in the haze with the smoke coming out from chimneys. The heat around is bringing things to an end. We are parting ways. I'm standing at crossroads neither side will take me to a better place. The juvenile existence of a paradoxical levity brought us back again. I'm sitting in this cold room, torpid in one corner. A ray of light coming in through a hole in the wall and reflecting all the dust in me, in my thoughts. I'm trying to fathom the reason of existence if these entities and writing with a pen stolen from my masters chamber. But all I wanted to do was spill red ink all over the axioms.

Two buttons. My mind is not being able to register either of them. Each procedure triggers an impulse in my body, reaction is inevitable but the forces around hypnotise me and I purport to falsify all the claims within. I'm forced to believe that this is the truth. I can hear strange noises. None of them seem to please me. Every word that comes out of her mouth dissects a segment of my imagination and breaks it into pieces mercilessly and unconsciously. My mind begins to stutter. This is unacceptable. Why are they making me write a passage of euphemisms. I do not wish to write. This place seems to be a trap. They're trying to divert my attention by placing these still life objects and their reflection under the sun is transforming my mind into a different dimension. They're using art for the supposedly magnanimous motives but I know it's a trap. I'm befuddled. Why are children playing games of life while I sit to crib about things which aren't worth. Are they mocking at me because of my indecisiveness. The room is filled with chalk dust and the only one person here is speaking her mind out. Why am I confined within these four walls? Why are my choices not my choices?