I have mere recollections of
******* cocktails being served
Under the starless sky
Because the stars allure the poets
And the poets mistake them for shooting stars

Another thing I'm reminded of is
Envelopes with pink and gold glitter dust
It's better to keep them untouched
Because touching them means food for thought
And food for thought is mistaken for inessential complexity

The last thing that comes to my mind
are the old chandliers in the hallway
And it's better to not look up while walking
Because blinding light would result in a catastrophe
And a catastrophe would restrict my recollections to these few elements

I heard you're talking about
Splitting the fortune into two
With the silver revolver in her hand
Gasping her breath she's walking down the aisle
Burning red than fading blue
The odds of your lumbered existence fall flat
If only the armour was repossessed
By a harbinger from your mother womb
Would you realise the game ceases to exist
It's all in your mind in caught in your rigmarole of lies
Overhwhelmed by your streak of luck
You command the move to be played
If only you knew
the result already is checkmate
When the lady sitting across placed a bet
You lost it all to her and satiated yourself to her charm
But she's walking down the aisle now
Burning red than fading blue
Black and red you lost it all
You went home and pretended to be unscathed
But this time there's no way back
It's the lady coming towards you
With the biased musket at her disposal
This is not your gambling den
Here comes apocalypse
It's Russian roulette.

Dead leaves
Falling like sighs
From the full moon
and the canopy of stars
With the crystals  reflecting
Demise of the lark

Uncovered
walking on the aisle
Seamlessly flowing away
the fog is the curtain blindfolding her
Doors of the cathedral are shut

The prism reflects the imbroglio  
Outlines of bittersweet memories
Burning in the fireplace
Frosted windows with half broken glasses hindering movement

With a pale face and dry lips
Hands numb
she tries to write
Last few lines of her life

I wish I could guide
these caged words
be able to maneveour them
let them drift apart
towards the seamless light of the night towards the oceans of elixir

I wish I could set free
the taste of the bittersweet memories
without causing any harm to my conscience
without letting the uncertainties
affect my psyche

I wish I could join and tear
Cry and fear
Laugh and rejoice at the same things
Dance to those songs and cry to them
Settle and destruct
Without bluffing with my soul.

Quarter past 11 is it?
No it's 11:11
Slowly lapsing second by second
With thousands of prayers and wishes being granted and my hope wandering for resurrection.

Quarter past 11 is it?
No it's 11:11
When hybrid eyes void of faces to dance with claim to purport themselves to a mere beguiling satiation but inwardly they're dying to enjoying their guilty pleasures

Quarter past 11 is it?
No it's 11:11
4 minutes have passed says the lady with her watch showing the wrong timing maybe her wish could be traded for someone else's perhaps

Quarter past 11 is it?
No it's 11:11
Look at the clock see the patten four ones two elevens delving deep into souls of millions waiting for their wish to be granted and spreading smiles just how silver dust and bubbles do to the five year old in the backyard  

Quarter past 11 is it?
No it's 11:11
For the artist holding up the thoughts on the silver platter for her ideas assembling in the mind promptly as if a magical spell had been cast on her after she made her last wish

Quarter past 11 is it?
No you missed it but it's 11:12
Maybe the next time you could save a minute to make magic
And I hope tonight at 11:11 the shooting star lights up your night as well.

On the crest of the wave I decided to sit down at my  14 year old escritoire

On the advent of spring I decided to
Fill up the moats in my backyard  

The quill in between my fingers commemorating the fall of the mighty empires when I was actually rubbernecking the flowers I filled up the ditches with.

Two universes in my mind helpings shape intricate designs and the inkwell acts as a magnet attracting my soul to get lost within these paradoxes

If I walk towards the palaces the kings will ask me to extemporise tricks of which are on my finger tips

If I walk towards the patio I will fall into the area next to it and be buried beneath the flowers

Met with an accident 20 years ago when I was thinking of neologisms
when I was thinking of atypical aphorisms
when I was lost in between the metaphors.

You skip through my mind
Every second
Half way then to the extreme
And then it goes back to normal

With your unrivalled spirit
Untenable, you daunt around
Your playfulness and optimism
Giving my life an aura or freedom

With every step on the nature's vein
You rouse a feeling of an unbridled passion in my mind
Roaming about exploring jungles of
my innermost thoughts
Influcing me and my psyche with your cheeky demeanour  

And I know that I'll be in debt forever
Because of your unquenchable love and heartiest grins
You little monkey, this will be the way to our humble plight.

You were like the pieces of
A jigsaw
I claimed you when
I was a toddler
Every evening we stood in
The backyard and hid from the
Pigeons
Every night we laid on the grasses
And counted the stars

My hands are shivering now
And I'm too **** old for any reconciliation
My will has flown
And to this impetuous wind
It surely has blown
You're writing these verses
With your blood stained fingers
I'm trying to forget
Every word I said.

Back in the second grade you
Gave me roses and I thought
We're beginning to collapse
And build this new dome of love
But the meanings and emotions
At this very tender age
Knew no bounds
Crept away
Kept on moving endlessly
Like those horizontal lines you drew
In my notebook
I still have those pages
Buried them with you
Kept them with my soul.

Today when I stand on the bridge
The bridge where your car collapsed
There's an eerie silence
There's a horizontal cross
An immeasurable distance
That can never be crossed.
I watch as every alphabet on that letter
Gravitates towards the floor
And my hands, my blood stained fingers recall that night you were murdered
That's what you told.

Someday the lies we say, consume us.
Someday this demise will become an old tale.
The truth with stay with me
Vertically hitched.

A blank piece of paper
Unscrambled letters
Metaphors flying across the room,
Hypnotised.

A bucket of white paint
Whitewashed fences
The last knock on the door,
Crestfallen.

Thirty five cygnets
Moving in the same direction
I choke on the sea salt,
Frozen.

A thousand letters from you
Anecdotes and poetry's
Words still won't suffice,
Rusted.

I'm resting beneath an avalanche
With my numb soul burying the cold secrets
The chasms taking in my pain
I'm a poet
I don't wish to be one
I'm resting beneath the avalanche
And my cacology is killing me
These words reaching out to the mountains
Are merely fairytales in this stark reality
I'm resting beneath an avalanche
And I can see the cygnet
With her mother
Moving towards death
And my words cannot help them
My words cannot help my withering self too.

Times change and people change. Nobody stops for anyone. I'm stuck on the crossroads of my destiny hopelessly wandering and probably overthinking because that's what people do at 2 am in the night. When you gaze at the stars and wonder about everything that will make sense in sometime. It's not just insomnia, it's the desire to make most of every second. It was one of those times when I was stargazing while listening to post rock, trying to figure out how these stars don’t fail to captivate one completely
The desire to create and destroy. Intriguing fallacies blindfolding you are now gone.  It's that time of the day, when conversations are subtle and make so much sense that tomorrow when you wake up and join the rat race you'll remember nothing about this. This is why it remains a dream, exactly why I don't like the fact that the civilisation decided to sleep at night. Why not do something better, do something you want to achieve and begin, begin at night. Why these rules and restrictions, these boundaries caving your musings. These walls enclosing your mind. Think of something beyond this. Explore. The universe is ******* rad. Why work during the day when it is all dull and monotonous, when the sun is shining and you're low, engrossed too much into something you don't actually wish for. The light gives you hope? The darkness gives me company, it gives me peace. The constellations are mystifying. I wish to stay up till 4 am and figure out everything I don't know the answers to. I wish to make every moment a success. Ten years later you'll be living a different life, now you're living a different one. Why waste this night? Time doesn't wait for you, you shouldn't wait for it as well. Wake up.

I used to be a writer once
Now I stare at blank pages
Cursing my insanity
Looking for my muse she's lost
Roaming about the streets in mismatched socks.

I used to be a dreamer once
Before the accident turned me blind
Now I see blurred visions
Of the demons in my head
Now I sleep at night, I sleep throughout the year.

I used to be an ailurophile
Before curiosity killed the cat
Trips of imagination were games that we played
Before it crossed the path of a million souls
They stopped, dreaming, talking, living.

I used to be human
Before I lost faith in mankind
I was drunk and so the mishap occurred
I killed my cat
I stopped writing was why I couldn't write.

In the backyard near the mosses, electric blue wrens.
The blackbird singing away.
A myriad of stars in this sky with subtle humour
Tingling away with mischief, Changing hue every now and then.
Sun toughened lovers, Walking hand in hand
Fade away into the darkness
Collapse in the middle of nowhere.
Lost, With their voices echoing
from under cedar covers.
Waves dancing under the crimson sky.
Transformations hiding its alibi
They're floating on the blue vitriol of early February
Northwest autums turns to winter
The snowflakes melt in the presence of the heat.
I'm still finding the chameleon,
And the lovers who disappeared last night.
I'm still lost in the shades of blue
An electric energy reaches out to paradise.
My thoughts circling around, Rings of ancient wisdom.
Motionless, With my feet touching the ocean floor
And my eyes remain beneath the pall.
Watching the vultures , With my fingers numb
And the smile on my face, As steady as the thunder
And rain pouring down
And my heart lost
Lying somewhere, Along with the ashes of the dead bird
Singing away, In a place
Where I'm yet to be born.

Bittersweet headlines
Reaching out to the heavens
While the woman sleeps in the streets,
Everyday I look at her eyes, alight with hunger.

You play your moves ,I play mine
They play their moves.
The bishops don't move , The rooks do not.
The queen and the king lie safe,
Killing people from a distance
Mind politics is enough for demise.

Ideas and theories
Mere fallacies and ideologies
We're still puppets of the almighty
Almighty? The shrewd politicians of course.

So while we laugh at Jew jokes
And people continue to think of some
Let's think for ourselves
And keep away the gun.

In the backyard near the mosses
electric blue wrens
The blackbird singing away
A myriad of stars
In this sky with subtle humour
Tingling away with mischief
Changing hue every now and then
Sun toughened lovers
Walking hand in hand
Fade away into the darkness
Collapse in the middle of nowhere
Lost
With their voices echoing
from under cedar covers
Waves dancing under the crimson sky
Transformations hiding its alibi
They're floating on the blue vitriol
Of early February
Northwest autums turns to winter
The snowflakes melt in the presence of the heat
I'm still finding the chameleon
And the lovers who disappeared last night
I'm still lost in the shades of blue
An electric energy reaches out to paradise.

Those days I don't forget to forget
Are coming back again
Unknowingly I slipped out through the camps
The dream is a nightmare
Nightmares will be worse
I was beginning to think only my life is a curse
The stark reality crucifies all kids
Millions committing suicide
Children killed in the cribs
Is it the way of living or are we being tortured, mother
Am I to die even before I stutter
Those men in the ships will they rescue us
Or is the glory of the truth just another farce
Should I trust the government, mother?
Should I think mother? Should I die?

I fell behind your backyard
Frenzied branches feathered leaves
Blowing past my inner soul
An abrupt epiphany
Your thoughts castellated
My body is trembling
I finished the last bottle of wine
Before your clairvoyant poetry came to my notice
You're invisible
But this scrap of paper lies in my hand
Clandestinely I continue to read it
You search furiously
For the cold secrets of your modesty now are exposed
Your pretentious nature is now revealed
You pen down what you think
I wait, I'm trying to regain consciousness
Weeks later your demise, the denouement
Saddens me, I'm sorry I was not sober
I made a mistake.

Put down the conversations
You overheard in the taxicab
Engrave the clauses
A shadow falls over the morbid epiphanies.

Draw life into these lines
Tessellated ,Portray your potential
Efface the curse from within yourself
The fire on cold winter nights spreading all around

The truth is a secret
The farce guides the mortals
The leftover part is a reverie
Eyes wide open, white light blinding the soul

Railroad tracks of broken dreams and thoughts
The journey is incomplete
Reality cringes into the pleasant daydreams
I'm still eavesdropping the conversation of the dead.

The train passes from over my soul.
The trees echo my dreadful silence.

Lying down on the bed
Motionless
Thoughtless
I'm ringing the doorbell
He's watching from a distance
Merely watching
I'll walk back to the car
And drive past the sycamore
The trees, they were your favourites
The dead ones probably burnt by those firemen
Now there are no trees, there are buildings
There's a cemetery
There's a dead body in the cemetery without trees
The soul is your sisters'
The sister who was killed with knife I was looking for yesterday
I was looking for that knife
But you found it
You found it beneath the candles wax
Wax that melted when your sister killed herself
You scraped of every bit and took out the knife
And killed yourself
He lies motionless
Thoughtless
At a distance
I keep ringing the doorbell.

Overcome by lassitude
I took out my typewriter
And wrote a letter
To

The rhapsodic songs
I kept singing all night
A resonant guffaw
For

150 words of poetry
On tessellated fabric
Written with thick black ink
In the memory of


The forgotten.

Last night
You kept your words
To yourself and I kept
The ones with me to mine
They kept tying themselves
Into knots
Now they're so into each other
That I can't find a way out
And I'm beginning to slip
Into a plethora
Of dry ashes
And cold feelings
My fingers moving on the edges
My soul rejecting the claustrophobic nature
Of your cranky behaviour.

There always has to be
Something coming up
To satisfy the level
Of chaotic vigour
To bring a solemn change.
There always have to be dreams
Which need to
Be torn apart
So that the better in life
Makes it's way
There always has to be
An ocean which
Drowns you into itself
And consumes your sorrows
And transports you
To the intergalactic world.
There always has to be a fire
In your burning soul
Which kills the pretence in you
And builds you up again
Brick by Brick.

I emptied myself
Into a flower vase
Eight minutes before
The sun went down
And I lie motionless
And cringe away from
The dead reality
My thoughts circling around
Rings of ancient wisdom
Motionless
With my feet touching
The ocean floor
And my eyes remain
Beneath the pall
Watching the vultures
With my fingers numb
And the smile on my face
As steady as the thunder
And rain pouring down
And my heart lost
Lying somewhere
Along with the ashes of the dead bird
Singing away
In a place
Where I'm yet to be born.

Tonight the lane
Will be flooded
With blood
And shadows
The ongoing rituals
And other paraphernalia
The squad will deny
But conquer
Every soul engaging in
Increasing the baggage
Of our cognisant minds
I'll try to ameliorate
The functionality
By passing on placards
With the truth imprinted
On every edge
While poets will continue to tell lies.

Crooked walkways
Leading my spirit
Towards the altar
My confessions are legitimate
I walk past the pebbles
Eroding into the dust
The only bottle of wine left
Was entrained by my sister
Blood spurting forward
My legs are sinking into the ground
They say we all are made of stardust
But my reflection portrays chaos
I've reached the cathedral
My car burned down last night
The keys rust in the cemetery

Walking on a bridge
I try to remember
All those moments
Of unharmed silences
And petrifying darkness
Savouring our situations
Conquering the world
Making false promises
I spilled water
On your paintings
Smudging charcoal on
All those letters you gave
I feel a fire
The answers are disappearing
One by one
The questions forever
Entangle me
On the crossroads of my existence .

And if you see me
Lying on the floor
With blood flowing
Like a turbulent sea of
Tears I cried
All my life
Would you contemplate
The reason
Of my denial
Of this acceptance
Can you bring an end
To this mundane story of mine
By cutting of its wings
And setting it free
Would you read
My poems
After I'm gone
And find the reasons
Of my disapproval
Would you help me
In tying the rope
Around the mistakes
I did not make.

Steel rimmed spectacles
The fog is going to **** me
Brakes fail
Endless thoughts
A cut
So deep that my fear sublimed
drenched in sorrow
halcyon as ever
A myriad of mistakes
I have to compromise
because of my repugnant taste
I have to slaughter
my cashmere and its owner.

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?

We'll paint
The world with
Red pastels
And sing in the
Meadows of
Numbness
Break the crystals
And challenge
Time immemorial
For every wilted rose
They went against
Your thoughts and mine
Striking the wall
With graffiti
like bayonets
And the hourglass
Breaking the ravages of time
We'll watch the constellations
On nights when
The galaxy will be
Unharmed
By the floating debris
And humanity.

It's corrupting my soul
And emitting words
Like radiations from a forgotten planet
They had been soiled
Earthed to the ground
But the liquor makes my tongue languid
And pertinently corrupt
I've sent a few messages
They're undeniable
They'll not only disappear like smoke in the haze
They will make me choke on my tongue
They'll leave me intoxicated
Crush your expectations
Certainly.

If the power lies within
I will reconcile myself and make it believe
That the truth is indestructible
And those chasing pavements have found their ways

If the truth is indestructible
I will fight for my life
Utopianism will become a model of nothingness
I will cross the boundaries

If I fight for my life
I will beguile some time by living for myself
And be oblivious to all those worldly claims
Live for people encumbered with debts

If I live for people encumbered with debts
I will monopolise the crass ingenues
And help them overshadow the mighty
I will be immune to the white lies and .

Every inch of my enthusiasm
Seemed to bifurcate into the hypnotic chasms
Considering it to be a cynical manipulation
Made the situation even worse
Every soul around exalted their emotions
And I stood in the corner
Behind a pillar of dramatic fluctuations
Mediocre skills
High hopes
Delusional beliefs
Every thought in my mind seemed to jeopardise my future
All the hypocrites and their sanctimonious talks now were unraveled
I wondered why my ingenuity was being tested
I died wondering why the chaos in my mind was stopping me from living.

They're the burning coal
In the satiated winter morning
With snow falling on the ground
And the fire burning with vigour

They're like the veins
On the creepy swollen leaves
Falling down from trees in autumn
Being crushed beneath those dreams

They're like the casks of wine
Left open on the street
Flowing into the sewer
Dissembling people's thoughts

They're like grains of sand
In one hourglass
There for each other
Together Breaking the ravages of time.

It's cold
And my words
Are flowing away
Like dandelion seeds
Into the fields
The vast green meadows
Abruptly
And the questions
In my mind
Are now scattered
Like star dust
Among the audience
But I stand like
A harlequin
With my body numb
And my dying soul
Trying to resurrect itself
And my warbling fate
Longing to take a turn.

I cannot see
The bitter truth
Lying beneath the stones I've broken
Carved on those little pieces
Objectifying shattered hopes
Strenuously believe it's going to be alright
And purport to be satiated
I cannot ignore the buzz of the crowd
And let down the expectation
Of people whose brains collapsed
While serving me
I cannot see what lies beneath the oceans
And walk past those innumerable secrets
With my eyes closed
And my ribs holding on to my lungs
And my cigarette stained hands yearning for demise.

A kaleidoscope
lying beneath
the silver linings
Of my confessions
And I
Seem to reflect
At all the lies
And truths
Inadvertently
Also, Simultaneously
Destroying the aura of
It's beauty and charm
Unknowingly
Creating a void
Unconsciously letting it out.

Right across the street
With the bells ringing abruptly
The woman she prays
With her fingers crossed
She kneels down on the floor
Of the church which doesn't exist
And wails for the unborn children
And the chaos in their afterlives
Next to the church is a bucket of green paint
Behind whitewashed fences
Of the graveyard
And the sparrows fall into the bucket and
Disguise themselves as harbingers of the
Unknown
The lady walks into the confession room
Of the church which doesn't exist
And wails about the glory of unrequited soldiers
Prays for their worthy souls
And from behind the sparrows
Fly above the chandeliers
Reach her ears
And whisper continually
"You're dead,
We're not harbingers
We're dead too
This church doesn't exist
Those children are now successful
Those soldiers have been rewarded
You're dead."

He had stopped writing the journals
The pages were smelling of ****
Tramping around in the middle of nowhere
He had lost the utmost necessaties of existence
A paradoxical levity however defined the situation aptly
The truth was found in this surprisingly conventional existence
The officers questioned him about his whereabouts
To which he replied in a peeved tone
"I'd rather not talk about my alibi, I'm living my life my way for sometime now"
Moved about from the corners of the streets
He lay bricks on their expectations
Denuded mountains and a cask full of crippled hopes separated him from his loved ones
He spent his evenings gazing at the indescribable tint of the rainbow
With stardust captivating the left over soul
The tangibility of dreams mocked at his living
Fifty bucks and 2 unlit cigarettes
Was all he had for another months dormancy
The people were curious
They wanted to know what he desired for
All the snowbirds now are afraid of losing their children.

It's been sixteen days
I don't have the courage to pick up a pen
And ink those thousand thoughts
I don't have the right words
I don't have the right thoughts
There are just too many of them
Crowding in my mind
Like a swarm of bees buzzing away killing my soul
They've spun a web in my mind  
But in spite of this rumpus
All that exists is a void
White spaces and fine lines
Half written anecdotes
Two words on the screen
And a blank space
Now my eyes feel a white light passing through them
Those self destructed verses try to find a place
Somewhere
They need to be carved
They need to be read
There's no room for these unwanted thoughts I guess
The teacher says turn to page number 25.

It's the darkened smoke
Glowing over that dark ember skin
The cameras couldn't capture
The pain inflicted upon her brain
A cold facade
Opinions juxtaposed within
Leaving no place for self realisation
Some fine lines of distinction
Between the past and the present
Now became the epitome of her neediness
Segment by segment
Staggering through the walls
Intoxicating itself
Unfolding the crass sensitivities
To the unbothered beings
Lying beside the deadened fireplace
With a book in her hand
Stuck on the prologue
In Spite of knowing the story
The characters have been delusional
The plot was not pragmatic
But she still lies watching the burning fire
With the hope of resurrection
In the parallel world
She's smiling away

You're the dealer
Who stole my possessions
You stood behind that red cupboard
And basked in your glory
You injected the venom
With a slight grin on your face
Purporting to be a master of your words
Incorrigibly lying beneath the rock
You're afraid of being revealed
Your alibi is kept track of
With smoke curling round the corner of your sleeves
Blood dripping down those poisoned ivy vines
You're hiding beneath the tunnel
Making your voice seem approachable
Trying to wind those other people
Into your farcical world
You're presumably sagacious but
You're corrupt.

I've been putting them down on paper
In blue ink without a stop
My mind being the exemplary model
Hands committing the sins
I've counted the number of times
I slain the beasts on those pages
Tear the paper and throw it
Crumpled torn and frayed
With every step I take
The kaleidoscope reflects another mistake
With every ray of light disappearing
The shadows take the place
I sit back in a modest way
Greedy for the ripened fare
A sound playing at one corner of my head
Embodying cognitive dissonance
My fate is warbling
Symmetrically.

You're the one
With the loneliness
Pierced into the subliming anger
Rosen dermis
Time passed
Pale lavender
Like a broken dream
Unearthing itself from the exasperated soul
Within yourself
You're flowing like a river
Flooded with dead salmon
Hurt by the pressure of
Those million dreams
Of reaching the sky
Purporting to be fine
You're the imposter of the highest caliber.