Here I dwell,
Embedded in the memory of you.
I reside in the there
of which you once existed.
Reciting moments which seem close enough to grasp
They lay within the palms of your rugged, resilient hands.
I am inferior
Delirious in the concept of your being
Far from where you are
I question the complexity of this madness.
May I ever find peace within your sturdy grasp
I ponder aimlessly at the thought of your return
Sluggish and hopeless I find myself waiting
May we ever be again my old friend?

His situation was dire.
Despite having taken shelter
Inside that ring of fire,
Fuelled with whiskey and ****,
And ****** with flesh,

She still held in her beautiful hands
The end of the rope around his neck.

Stepping into, and out of the flames
With unbelievable, unnatural ease,
She would tighten and loosen
That noose of her deadly love,
As and when she pleased.

A tear is shed
For those who are blind to the beauty of this world
Who can only feast on sarcasm, writhing in irony
        *It soon evaporates.
Pictures of a future dressed in ribbons and lace, cast off and burned
Pictures of the future carrying disdainful dystopia, infamous for invalids
Hung to admire in sublime distaste by those that seek knowledge
And see the repetitious antiquities of time that come to pass
        But others care not for plans and the imminent
Those that keep to the light of the gas
And carry the past to the present
Hoping for trends to try again, reliving what they had never lived
Laconic and loquacious in emotions and words
Against the gossip, but paradoxically
Pushing for the creation of their “ritualistic social Golgotha”.
Those who abuse the glory of their munificent, malicious mentality
Pathetically unable to procure authentic happiness
       A tear is shed.
Inside the recesses of the soul where emotions dare not dwell.
       It too evaporates.
Trapped in fear and the “cliched harlequin speech of suicide”
Begging for the masses to cast them out and find each other
       A tear is shed.
Never seen but felt as it evaporates.
Felt by those who envelop themselves inside themselves
Those who plagiarize their sick self-conscious souls
Those who bring about the very misfortune they strive to devour
Those who are effortlessly envied as they exploit their habitual recreations
       By those who wouldn’t dream of falsified euphoria
Those who bastardise and deface the name of creative individualism
As waters of the soul are purged and discarded
       They are felt by those
And are quickly washed away in doubt and regret
Keeping to the light of the gas, dangerous and warm

The fortress is soundproof no more,
And the voices I had once blocked out,
Are creeping in, seeping in, towering over me,
They accuse me, they shout.

Peaceful silence marred by vengeful shrieks,
Blissful ignorance quelled by demanding questions,
Pristine air darkened by black tears,
And surrounded by all, I stand in the centre.

A spotlight of love-turned-ugly encircles me,
And for the first time, I feel insecure, alone.
I take my hand and place it on my chest,
Trying to feel, in vain, my heart of stone.

Silent  heart.
Pulselessness.
Vacant chest.
Airlessness.

Such a curse- this emotionless machine
that swells up on others’ despair!
The robotic pump that never breaks down,
That’s never needed any healing or repair.

I hear the frantic beats of all the hearts
I stomped upon, nonchalantly broke.
Then, smothered by the darkness of my own being,
I gasp and wheeze, I choke.

When will my veins distend with passion?
When will my heart spout unhindered blood,
And add into my lifeless existence-
Fire and pleasure, pain and love?

I’ll unlock now, these strong iron gates,
And stand outside into the hot, harsh light,
I’ve been huddled up in the dark all my life,
I’ll expose my soul now, to set my wrongs right.

And for the one-
Who’ll unfold, unfurl, enter, penetrate,
And my stony abrasiveness, slowly grate-
I’ll tear open my chest, and silently wait.