it's funny how now when i pick my pen up
only for it to drain no drop of ink
not letting all this chaos out of the envelope
is now taking away my ability to think
for all these words stay jumbled in my head
creating pictures of unreal imagination
of daydreams and those moments i bled
i wish to write down this clotting confusion
yet fail i to form simple sentences
filling my bones with apprehensive
and all the while my anxiety eats me alive
i wonder without poetry how shall i survive
because without this i am fully empty
like a starving soul amongst the plenty

thoughts thought everywhere
but not a single word to write,
oh dear reader i feel i don't have long-
what a pity it is to have my plight?

hey reader
i hope that you're well
living your life to the fullest
and not counting your days in a cell
i know this might sound weird and absurd
opening up to a complete stranger as such
but trust me on this, because this is a tried and tested method
talking to someone you don't know will help you so much
a random hello, or a sweet *** confession
something about your beloved pet or a long lost possession
a word about your heartbreak or the failures and tension
or maybe we can chat about your fantasies and *******

maybe you haven't even reached this line of this poem
but if you're still reading, then i am telling you that
it's a good idea to simply notify my inbox
not for your sake, but mine because even i could use a good chat

who doesn't want to delude himself/herself with the thought that he/she isn't normal? every bond in our DNA screams with the need to be different, to stand out and yet, when the actual time of choice comes, where we either end up becoming what we were always meant to be and what we forced ourselves, shaped ourselves into, we, ladies and gentlemen, take the safe road
it's funny how i have always tried to go with the flow, be somebody who is loved by everyone, looked upto, yet, every night when i lie down on my bed, with the sheets beneath me wrinkling with the weight of my unfulfilled dreams and fantasies, all i do is close my eyes and go to a place far from normal
the most deviant thoughts cross my mind, the obscenity of these images in my head make me nauseous because i have made the choice of going against something i was born with
i listen to music, the notes travel up the afferents and then down to my muscles, making each molecule within my body too desperate to dance, yet, all i do is sit and smile, not even letting myself bob my head to the lyrics and compositions filling my ears!
everytime i read a book, i yearn to become the protagonist because she gets to live all that i can only see with my eyes closed
all the work i do in my day, from checking someone's heart rate to listening to the beating pattern of their hearts, placing my fingers over their thrumming pulses and trying to play sherlock with their ailments, i wish to be good at it, with polished skills and a strong will to get better, to become the greatest without even considering the amount of effort i have to put in in order to achieve that
the roles are suffocating, the frustration is overwhelming

i don't know but these ******' feelings ****
me wanting to feel the warmth of your hand, a clusterfuck
because we aren't dating, just using each other thoroughly
with every chase and every lick, we shatter into a bliss so otherworldly
you came into my life when i was happy on my own
living the life of my dreams and texting tons of guys on my phone
but you had to make me obsessed with your eyes
the way they stared at me and looked through my soul- surprise?
the way your fingers mapped every corner of my skin
making me moan and crave your darkness like a sin
i was sprawled for all your attention and the things you wanted to do to me
but crushing my beating heart after starting it wasn't for you to see
making me vulnerable and learning my secrets only to keep your distance
wasn't on the menu, but sharing could've been, for instance-
when you dug deeper into my brain, twisted my veins and got answers
i too had the right to know what makes you tick and what happens after?
your favourite colour, your best day till date?
maybe just why are you so **** ******* yourself, your fate?
but no...you left me high and dry, with nothing, not even my thoughts belonging to me
and thought that this arrangement- would be enough, to be?
you stalked me, emptied me of all my confessions
got inside me and my head with the promise of passion
so you can't leave without giving me a part of your soul in return
because this is the cost we pay, if two play with fire, then both of us shall burn