There
she goes
once again
ignoring life
as she falls in love with another song.

This fleeting love affair however brief,
is the only
time she feels
truly
free.

It’s day seven of NaPoWriMo;
I have to write a fresh poem.
But it is also Monday
and I have no topic,
no inspiration.
So this feeble
nonet will
have to
do.

Every day now my mind grows weary,
Shards of broken dreams wound me daily.
Caught in a web of endless expectations,
All I can do is quietly daydream;
Plan every step of my grand escape,
Even if I only do it to get through the day.

People find it strange
that someone like me
who gets out of breath,
wheezing,
after two flights of stairs
considers the horse
to be her spirit animal.

Ironic though it may be,
isn't it natural
for the somatically lazy
to have a wild soul
that runs free?

Guarded dreams, whispered secrets,
summer crushes, December flings,
inside jokes, confessed regrets…

These are but a few things
that we share with each other
without any fear, any misgivings.

You were once a stranger
and now you are my best friend.
my partner in crime, my soul sister.

After all, friendship is all that matters in the end.

I attempted to
ensnare my darkest desires
with the help of dreamcatchers.

Filter out all those
recycled thoughts to unveil
a pipe dream that is just mine.

I have wanted you
for so long
and with such hunger
that now I think
I would rather not have you at all.
For once you’re mine
I will lose that sense of longing
and there will be nothing to
fill the agonizing empty spaces
that time inevitably blows in.

I know it is strange
and slightly moronic
but I just want to want you
for a little while longer.

There is a certain thrill when you are
teetering on the very brink.
An intense, almost perverse
curiosity to
see whether you will
continue to
stand tall or
will you
fall.

There’s something special
and ethereal
about neon nights like this
that makes the world seem new.
I’ve known you so long.
Definitely not the first time
I’ve heard this song.
And I think
I’m in love.
To be honest, I can’t tell
if I’ve fallen for the song or you.
What difference does it make anyway?
For now, the universe aligns perfectly;
Life almost makes sense.
So as long the music keeps playing,
I suggest we keep moving
together. As one.
And when the song ends,
after the last note,
if I still crumble at your touch,
we’ll just get ‘em to play it all over again.

Today was nothing more
than a woeful echo
of my life yesterday.
And the same is true for
every day I have lived
ever since I gave up.

I don’t remember
what led me down this
lonely desolate
path of nihilism,
of self-destruction.

I don’t recall
a time I felt
differently.
Blank mind. Blank walls.

So I wait,
stoic, numb,
as silence

descends
upon

me.

Intentions, aren’t they always good?
You tried to do the best you could.
Though finally it came to naught,
you never gave up, never stopped
saying it’s for the greater good.

Intentions, aren’t they always good?
Seldom taking the path they should.
Noble, with a worthy cause wrought,
intentions rust.

Intentions, quite misunderstood –
even the best ones never could
right any of the wrongs they bought.
The well-meaning battles you fought
hardly could have done any good.
Intentions rust.

Something about her
makes you curious.

Her beauty
turns many heads
as she glides across a room.
Her laugh,
a mellifluous sound,
envelopes you like mist
on a winter morning.
She has pearly, neat handwriting
that leans in a different direction
every other day.

She is also kind.
An incorrigible affinity to broken wings,
she likes to fix people
and their problems (on occasion).
Is her heart full of compassion?
Or is she trying to escape
her own life by finding the solution
to any problem
other than her own?

Close your eyes, sweetheart, wish all your wishes
as your mother sings you this lullaby.

Wrapped in a flurry of goodnight kisses,
soar high on the wings of a firefly.

Shatter the moon in a thousand pieces;
sprinkle some bright stars across the night sky.

Sleep now, my love, dream your troubles away -
You have more dragons tomorrow to slay.

Remember…

When we had too much time on our hands
yet never ran out of things to say.
When we thought we knew everything,
when every path was the right way.

Silences used to be complete;
silver nights after a sparkling day.
Something about the days gone by
makes us want to rewind them and replay.

But maybe it is not that simple.
Maybe we are looking back the wrong way.
Maybe it seems easier because we fought
and lived to fight another day.

We can take a stroll down memory lane
but it’s not a worthy place for us to stay.
For nostalgia is a sepia toned b*h
who distracts you as today slips away.

Chocolate on chocolate,
the faintest tang of
apricot jam with a side
of whipped cream. Oh, yes!
Decadent, scrumptious
sachertorte.
Sigh!

You see the beauty.
I see only questions
which need no answers.
I am at once
vulnerable and defiant.

You cut through the pretence
of the important trivial things.
The morning news
is enough to bring me down.

I sulk in bed, wondering
what is the point of getting up.
You make sure I find one every day.

You know the significance
of not taking my navel-gazing
too seriously.

And when I despair at the futility
of trying to fix the broken world,
you show me with your endless zeal
and unwavering hope
that just trying
can make all the difference.

It is time to wake up
from the languid daydreams
that once I treasured so.

The place that used to be a haven,
an escape from life’s banality,
now feels like a gilded cage.

The mind wanders, untethered,
through sunlit corridors of indolence
pushing to see how far it can go.

Tantalizing me with possibilities,
never reality, this limbo
is only good for the occasional vacation.

Once.
Twice.
Three times
and four….

Like clockwork,
every five minutes,
he opens the fridge door.

He knows it is empty
but he’s got the munchies;
he can’t help himself.

Maybe he’s hoping to find
a tasty treat left for him
by a fairy, a pixie or a kind elf.

This seems like a plausible excuse,
the only way to explain
why he keeps peeping into an empty fridge
over and over and over again.

The wolves come out to watch
when night falls.
They mean you no harm.
They will not leave.

When night falls,
your silent guardians rise.
They will not leave
until you are ready to wake.

Your silent guardians rise,
sentient of your dreams
until you are ready to wake;
their firefly eyes aglow.

Sentient of your dreams,
they mean you no harm.
Their firefly eyes aglow,
the wolves come out to watch.

Few possess the quiet faith to see past today’s tangled mess.
Most of us, victims of self-doubt, will accept what we call our fate.
Some though, know we must strive to silence the voice that says “You cannot.”.

My story is a mess, it’s going nowhere;
Continuous, never-ending like Penrose stairs.

So let me be the hero of your story —
I’d like to save you, taste some of that hero’s glory.

I will fight off your demons; for you I’ll bleed.
I will listen to you talk if that’s what you need.

I will hold you to me and never let go.
Breathe life into your stone heart, I will kiss you so.

I will help you break the chains and set yourself free
And maybe, someday, you can do the same for me.

Congratulations.
You have done it –
Created such a spectacular façade
no one will even try
to see what’s behind it.
No one will get a peek
at the wreck you are within.
So rejoice.
You have achieved what you set out to do.
Kept everyone out.
No one knows you are broken;
no one is looking to fix you.
And you are so busy
keeping up your false pretences,
you haven't noticed
the walls you built
to keep the world at bay
have also fenced you in.

The world shall only see
what you want it to see.
You are safe
in your steel cage.
Really,
well done.

Break free
of the limits
you have set for yourself.
The only one who can save you
is you.

Life is like a roller coaster —
Up and down, down then up we go.
Or so I read once in a motivational poster.
Well, life must knock me down pretty hard
Because somehow I keep missing the good part.

A savage storm has laid siege to the night.
But I am warm and cozy in my bed.
Finally, I can get some sleep tonight;
the thunder drowns the white noise in my head.

Lightning flashes and my eyelids turn red.
And yet I feel the blessed heaviness
guide me slowly into vast nothingness.

Find me before I am forever lost;
This madness tastes too sweet.
Give direction to these stumbling feet;
They cross lines that can’t be uncrossed.

I gave you up before I knew the cost.
How easily I admitted defeat!
Find me before I am forever lost;
This madness tastes too sweet.

Save my heart before it hardens to frost;
I need your warmth, your burning heat.
Will you please cling to me when we meet?
Find me while my heart is still soft.
Find me before I am forever lost.

Some days, I recede
too far back into my mind.
Thoughts are like a maze –
it’s so easy to get lost,
the way back is hard to find.

I need to dance with you and listen to you sing. I need to look at you, and  catch your eye at the exact moment you turn your head and smile at me. You have shown me that magic exists; kindness is not a myth. You, I need to do so many things with you. I need to follow your fingers as they move rhythmically to the tune of the universe. I need to breathe in your effulgent happiness. I need to touch and feel your scalding soul. The sadness that grips you and the darkness that stains your eyes, I need to partake in its lilting stillness. And as you float and stumble, crash and burn through life, I need to be there, pulsing, writhing, drowning in the abyss of wanting you.

I can see the light,
it surrounds them.
It shines from within.
The light,
it spills from their mouths
and winks when they blink.
I see it spark from their fingertips,
roll in waves behind their footsteps.

Luminous beings,
such surreal things,
and I, a mere spectator.
Set apart from the rest
by the sharp pain in my chest,
I can do nothing
except concentrate on my breathing
and think about what I should do next.