Cradling the night
Beneath whispers
Of consequence

Expunged from the realm
Of unruffled gaiety
Entangled in the womb
Of wrathful shadows
There it goes
The fleeting light

Leave these bloodied hand prints
Echoing in my heart
A lonely whisper fading
In the labyrinth of ambiguity
A catacomb for my emotion

I know nothing of the madness
Your heart contains
Seeping through a perforated
Veil of perfection
I want to undress your psyche
To hollow out the sweet contents
From your hardened exterior.

I grew old writhing
In manufactured sadness
My being felt the burden
Of regret
The sting of confinement
Plundered the reservoir
Of optimism
That resided deep within

The mirror image
Of my substance
Was merely a worn-out facade
Blinded by fury

One day
I took a deep breath
And sat in my kingdom
Of agglomerated nothingness,
Forever.

I am pixelated dust
And your face is the moon
All that you pulsate
Renders me blinded
And bound to the
Elastic tether of want.

Murmurs of sincere well wishes
Filled my ears
And took root in my bones
Calming and enraging my soul

As lies of contentment
Seeped through my teeth
Breathes of truth
Escaped from my being
And I feared the scent
Of desperation
Would make my true desires known
As though their knowledge
Of that which I ache for
Would devoid all my dreams
Of their meaning
Squash the possibility
And obliterate the certitude
Of their fulfillment.

Another Friday night
No variation to this existence
They are out there
Living it up
Falling in love
And I am here
Bashing my head against the wall
Furious with myself for eating a grape


Eyes fixed on the ******* television
Decaying on mother’s sofa

I feel like a fossil
At Twenty-two years and forty nine days old
Pathetic levels are high and rising


My thoughts are fermenting incessantly
It seems my mind is brewing something horrid
Blood dripping from my temples
Down my face
This daily struggle
Is squeezing everything out of me
Hungry for greatness
I refuse to rise
For anything less.

The truism of a fading facade
Diminished novelty
And vanished reverers

Blinded by an idle fancy
Treading on the periphery
Of disgrace
Closer to horror
Than to ecstasy

The vacant spaces
Are growing dimmer

Tangled in high lonesomeness
In your kingdom of grey.

A myriad of personalities

Belonging to the self

Dwelling therein
  
       Eternally

In discordancy.

July's soft murmur
Gave way to
August's howling
Obscured by boisterous
Moans of the wind
Screams turned into
Subdued yawns

Shrivelled leaves
Whose life the sun absorbed
Succumbed to the devastation
In all their grandeur
Scattered on the ground
In delicious hues
All they epitomised was
Inevitable gut-wrenching ends

Blind optimism bloomed
To tend to the wounds
Reeling in drawn-out decay
Autumn pain
Demanded to be felt.

A little over a year ago while scrolling the vortex that is the internet I stumbled upon this website, never had I thought of myself as someone who was eloquent in their writing but somehow the words came to me (what a cliché I know). What I lacked in my heart, I am convinced was the stimulus that made the words flow and there I was contemplating posting something that I had written weeks back, so exactly a year ago today I posted my first poem, I’d like to think of it as a mere writing, I have never considered myself as a poet but if I am ever so lucky to be squeezed into a group of poets, I’d be delighted. It’s been a pleasure to be exposed to a variety of poets whose words I resonate with and draw inspiration from.

Below is Pieces of string the very ever first writing I posted on here, an unedited, inferior piece of writing but I’d like to believe I have gotten better this past year.

Thank you for your kind words that fuel moral and make one have faith in their abilities. To you all I say keep scribing, as will I.


PIECES OF STRING

Pardon me if this does not
make any sense
Do you ever feel like you
spend your life constantly
Putting together pieces
Of broken string
You never really solve
Any of your problems instead
you just mend where there are
loose ends but the knot is
never tight enough to last long
because at some point the
string breaks and you repeat and
repeat and…..


Do you ever feel like a piece of
string…
Liable to break,
You once were strong
You once had a resilient mind
Now every little land slide
Causes you to break
And each breakdown is
Different because the more
you have them
The more they take a toll on you
Crushing you
Leaving only what’s left of you
A scared little girl with a soul
That was once full of life but now
Just shrivel and cold.

Hundreds of pieces of strings
are strewn on the floor
And they resemble how you have
failed to control and contain
your life.
They resemble tried and failed ideas that did not
work out
One solution fails you
grab another string
To put your life back together
It fails
you grab another one
And so on.

What happens
When you run out of string? Disintegrate?
No
Because you’ve done that a
thousand times already
It’s all a vain attempt
To escape yourself
So you fantasize
About hanging on a string
You quickly dismiss that thought
because even though
You don’t know who you are
You do know that is not
The type of person you are

You decided to stick
around why? Curiosity. That is
the reason you’re still here.

The stain of you
Pervades
The labyrinth of
Discarded sentiment.

“It was just a twinge”

The unfortunate escalation of slight
Agony into something
Much bigger than the self
Before you know it
you’re sitting in the blackest hole
Thinking **** **** man
I was just a bit sad
And now I’m in perpetual misery.

Today must have been

a field day for the Gods

Up there in the heavens

Staring down at this walking travesty

I stretched out my hand

To get hold of a dream

Only for them to chop my hands off.

Of my muse*
      
Wilting in desperate straits
In the tumultuous
Realm of a haunting
Subtle heartbreak
Laced with apathy
I can feel him fading
Into the mist
Of my yesterday
Buried and gone
Lost at twilight
Are the pieces of him
He gave to me.

careful what you say
it will haunt
and when it haunts, interrupts
I don't want to be interrupted
I've lost too much

Remains of who I was
Are splattered back down
The long winding  road
Breadcrumbs I subconsciously
left to follow back to myself
are long gone
Blown away by the wind

Feet stuck in the grit
Soon I will be in motion
Motivated by what
Maybe a delusion

One hurdle crossed
A thousand more to go
Miles to go before I can breath
Many many miles to go
My spirit is waiting for me
On the other side
The beginning of a whole new
life
Body will meet soul
I will be whole
I will find glory
So I can move among gods.

I do not want to see him
As just another dim-eyed
Figure fading into the crowd
Of the morning scamper
To burdening occupations
That, would break my heart

I have watched this boy  
This man  
Assemble the spare parts
As sadness dripped down his chin
And his,
Was an obvious struggle
The pain was not my own
Yet it consumed me
To the point of harbouring Irrational guilt

In the midst of misfortune
That seeped down from the
Forefathers we share
All his days
His blithesome temperament
Never withered

With all this I hold
All I forget to cherish
That someone
Should have been him
The one standing on these heights.

Severed from reality
Kept hidden
In my kingdom of grey
I tire of this horror
Do these four walls feel
The wrath of my violent sighs

There is beauty
To be discovered
In the wilderness
Of life
Even then
The ferocious storms
This world creates
Are not to my liking

The answers I seek
Are neither there
Nor here.

Veins polluted with the malady that is love
From the lethal sting of Delilah

A man with a virtuous temperament
A devotee
A fool

Parched and empty
Dangling on the edge of reason
Short of resistance
He succumbed to her feign affections
And so it bled and bloomed
A cloak-and-dagger romance
Doomed to crumble.

We fell prey
To the illusion
Of open doors
And progress
Bound misfortune
With each passing day
We are turning into statues

Eyes wide open
In procedural anticipation
This could be the year
The light descends

In our wait
We know someday
The horizon will tire
Of our gaze.

Unveil your true self to the masses

Unveil what you choose to
perpetuate

They won’t like you for who
you are

They only like the pieces you present to them in an off the cuff facade

So you wear that mask

Some are more comfortable than others

Of course you know this.

The nights are kind
For they let me drift off
Into a deep slumber
In pitiless daylight
I ponder on the not happened yet

The flood of thought
Deadens my soul
Envy taints it
I Linger in the shadows
Perpetuating the stain
Of my ascendants
Volition is an illusion

The silence of my own silence
savagely cuts like a warrior’s machete
Dismembering the remnants
of my authentic self
The design of my misfortune
Was perfectly orchestrated by the ingenuity of diablo

Distress inhabits the catacombs of my mind
Strangling on the lasso of consequence
Perpetually atoning for unknown sins
From another lifetime.

Thunderous footsteps of wolves
Gathering at my feet
Nourish my fear
The demons of recent past are screeching
Outside my door

That which plagues, devours
The blood I lost grew cold
As have I.

The goodbyes were torment
One by one
They made their way
Through the sliding glass doors
Then disappeared
Into the crowds of
Frustrated travelers
And in their wake
Left a void within me
And an absence that invited
An unbearable chill
I stood in concealed sadness
Wide hopeful dark brown
Peasant eyes
In a child-like fashion
I prayed for a chance at ecstasy
I prayed for my comrades  
To march back through those
Sliding glass doors
And sneak me away.

Perched precariously
Atop a pile of cobblestones
Strung out on
Suppressed fervor
Head high in the clouds
Spiraling in the sweep
Of a whirlwind
Of momentary delusions
Doused in vague
Prospects of merriment

Remember to descend

The wastelands of reality
Might plunder
All these un-promised ends.

I sat to ink a piece of writing....

About you

Again

My words  

Cast adrift

In the Atlantic of......

Immense anguish

All my pen did was bleed.....

Vermilion.