Seconds, minutes, hours-
They constitute and make up time,
Yet my very fabric of time,
Was made wholly of you.

Time started when you came into being,
Time flowed when u breathed,
Time was what you made of it,
Time had only you in my head…

Time slowed down in your absence,
Mere seconds seeming like hours,
Time flew when I spent it with you,
Hours and hours seeing like mere seconds…

Times were happy when you were happy,
Times were sad when you were sad,
Times were good, times were bad,
All according to your state of mind…

My time was synchronized to you alone,
Certainly not to some GMT,
I was accurate, precise, to the dot
In time when it came to you…

A person ceases to exist when their time comes to an end,
That’s exactly what happened to me when I lost you,
My foundation for living completely destroyed,
For all the time with me you had toyed…

Without time, there is no existence,
So also, I stopped to exist,
Without time, there is no sunshine,
So also, I stopped seeing the light of day…

Without time, there air doesn’t blow,
Without time, the water doesn’t flow…
Without time, I have nowhere to go,
Without time, what to do I don’t know…

With you absent, no control on time,
The end to my life’s chronology…
I exist, as but an anachronism,
Like a hellish beast of necromancy…
I would say I’m dead, or dying, or both,
But cant, as there is no you, no time,
So all I can say is that Im non existent,
Since you wiped away my chronicles…

And to think that it all happened but a year ago,
A year in GMT measure…
A year which seemed, and still seems
More of an infinite eternity…

The thing you do to a discharged cell,
Or to the socks that have too much of a smell,
What is it? Doesn’t it ring a bell?
Because You adhere to that policy so very well…

The thing you do to a flower that’s dead,
So also to a pencil that’s out of lead,
The same unfortunate fate of a broken wooden bed,
A habit of yours that lies imbibed in your head…

The death call for a tire with no air,
The plight of a writer who has lost his flare,
The epitaph of a man about whom nobody cares,
The cold obsoleteness of all your stares…

The gills of a fish outside of water,
The remains of a pig after its meaty slaughter,
The detriment of someone devoid of fun and laughter,
You certainly know about all this better…

A Kingless queen in a match of chess,
A game of chance without a single guess,
A heart beating oh so loveless,
Their method of disposal is at your prowess…

Use and Throw, Use and Throw,
That’s the way you always go,
Use and Throw, Use and Throw,
That’s all the love and affection to me you did show…

For all the compassion, all the regret,
I’m an expendable? Do I know you? Have we ever really MET?
It’s just made me even more sad and upset…

After trying to make your everyday new,
I’m wound up being Use and Throw to you,
I’m use and Throw, insipid, inarticulate,
A used tissue can’t undo its sealed fate….

But if I were any of these above things,
Of which my lonely aching heart sings,

A battery could be recharged duly,
The smell of socks would get the heavy laundry,
A flower would find soil to unwither and bloom,
A pencil refilled with lead to avoid its impending doom…

All of these things I know I can do,
But I also know I can never ever have you,
Because all YOU did, was use, then you Threw…
After my usefulness I meant absolutely nothing to You…

Use and Throw, Use and Throw,
As tears and blood into my discarded tissue does flow…
I was nothing to you, I have nowhere to go…
After all to you I was just.. USE AND THROW….!

Entering the depths of my desolate mind,
A surely etched image you’re sure to find…
An image of love and overflowing compassion,
That has me enraptured in such a fashion…

An image so perfect, its too good to be real,
A sensation so numbing its hard to feel…
Which links itself to every part of me,
Just as every drop of water belongs to the vast sea…

And though now it seems to have become obsolete,
Due to various ends and means that just don’t meet,
It’s essence still strongly burns within,
Even though it’s  just an end that didn’t even begin…

Such is the power it can emanate,
And make me the master of my fate,
No false pretence, it can illuminate the dark…
No doubt, its made more than its mark…

But it’s a mark that was never shot, never even aimed,
Just a hopeful dream from one so maimed,
An image whose real reason for existence,
Is based on false belief and such nonsense…

And when this thought taints the mind,
Pains so incoherently it can make one blind,
And nightmares arise where dreams once sprouted,
And every logical explanation is doubted…

And the heart which still wants to express,
Emotion that has crossed the limit of being pointless,
When crying makes more sense than laughing,
When detriment happiness does bring…

And a pre-existing void widens exponentially,
Memories attach and detach themselves infinitely…
And a thousand times each blink of an eye,
You feel like you get reborn after you die…

The pain difficult to reconcile with every time,
Reincarnated destruction by something so grandly sublime…
And the more it keeps hitting me hard,
More and more of my thought and action it does ******…

A worthless dream, like freedom for a bird in a cage,
The redemption of youth to a man in old age…
A trumpet that does not make any sound,
An aeroplane that never left the ground…

And wisps of reality can blow everything away,
While sleepless nights turn into unproductive days…
As the soul chokes over something that just isn’t there,
Gasping and rasping for a breath of fresh air…

An image that shatters, but doesn’t shatter,
That means absolutely nothing yet is everything you hold dear…
An image that isn’t at all supposed to exist,
Yet in which I am living amidst…

I’m taking a walk, on a starry night,
Enjoying the serenity of nature’s marvelous sight…

Drenched in the creaminess of the twilight view,
All things seem to be reborn, and new…

The sky is black, with patches of star white,
And the fireflies in the air make it look even more bright…

The pond shimmers, in a dark navy blue,
The frogs hopping on the water lilies forms an effervescent hue…

The soft fresh grass crumples under my feet,
And the trees sway lightly, cooling off from the day’s heat….

And a night owl twists its head all the way around,
To look at me and greet me with its hooting sound…

And the crickets chirp, grasshoppers leap,
And my mind goes into thoughts deep…

For every thing reminds me of her,
And the atmosphere around makes her feel near…

My mind is put at mental peace,
As I hear the cackle of sleepy geese…

And as I hear the fluttering of a bat’s silky wings,
My heart beats for her and sings…

A green eyed cat stares at me,
Her beauty, in those eyes reflected I see…

And as silvery glistening fish splash about,
I know im in love with her, no doubt…

And as I look at my hands, and think of hers,
A sleeping squirrel gently stirs…

My love for her, passive like the night,
So irreproachable, and elegant, it feels so right…

And though a lady bug scuttles away,
I know she will be there for me, come what may…

And I wonder where she is right now,
As I walk by a drowsy cow…

The sleepy horses whinny their agreement,
That she is indeed an angel godsent…

And as the cool breeze ruffles my hair,
I realize how much for her I care…

And everything about this night is perfect,
Only because I see her in its every aspect…

I would walk endlessly, wishing the night were forever,
For then she would never leave my mind, ever…

And as the owl flies over my head, towards the moon,
Deeper, deeper into her memories I swoon…

A beautiful place, filled with flora and greenery,
Where nature’s daintiness at its best you can see…
I sit by the roses, at my favorite spot,
Pretty much confused, lost deep in thought…

All around me are flowers and trees of every shape and size,
A kaleidoscopic foliage appeasing the eyes…
The rustic elegance forms a romantic view,
If only I could share the romance with someone I knew...

There’s a reason this place is called Cupid’s arrow,
Its to contemplate, and come to know,
If love has struck you,
And if that love is pure and true…

After which its for spending quality time with that special someone,
To pass love around and have some fun,
To fulfill your romance’s every desire,
And stoke your heart’s burning fire…

So I sit there, wondering, pondering,
About him, and if it was love he did bring,
He entered my life just a short while ago,
Until then who he was I didn’t in the least know…

That he likes me he has made it passively imperative,
And in certain subtle ways I find him attractive,
But do I truly love him? That I do not know,
And it is this answer I want Cupid’s arrow to show…

Whether by destiny, or by chance,
It was here that we had our first fling of romance,
All it was, was that we passed each other,
Each staring wistfully at the other…

But for these few fleeting moments time slowed considerably,
And I remember each moment, vividly…
How entrancing his brown eyes were,
Ad how the rest of the world became a blur…

And just as we were crossing each other, the blissful trees
Whispered romance through the pleasant breeze…
And rained a shower of flower petals on the two of us,
It seemed over our infatuation nature did dote and fuss…


Which is why I took this as a sign,
That maybe, maybe this guy could be mine..
My once chance at true romance,
I really want to take that chance…

But what if he were to break my heart,
What if cupid’s arrow tore me apart,
I’m smitten, but I’m not sure I love him,
Because hearts succumb easily to materialistic desire’s whim…

And what would happen to him, if it didn’t work out…
He too, would be heartbroken, no doubt…
I care too much to affect him in any way,
If anything happened I wouldn’t live to see another day…

So I sit wondering, whether I ever dare,
To even try and lay my heart bare,
Open up and confess everything,
Or just let it remain a fling…

All around me, nature portrays romance,
But love, it’s a double edged lance,
The trees are rustling again, I see him walking towards me,
I have to decide if Cupid’s arrow has struck righteously…

All alone, I stand in the deserted room,
Where once happy memories did bloom…

Wasn’t it just one day before,
That this room, a surplus of joy did store…?

But now, it’s a desolute rock,
All essence of life it does block…

Gloom and melancholy fills the area,
The whole place struck by disaster’s mafia…

Maybe it was like this all along, but to it I was immune,
When the effects of “love” made me swoon…

For I really was in romantic bliss,
Just before my life ended up like this…

Maybe I was just fooling myself all along,
Maybe from the start itself I was wrong…

But it made me happy, and the room colourful,
And every day was satisfyingly eventful…

But then it all just went away,
Like good things were never meant to stay…

Maybe “love” was just using me,
Before throwing me into a destitute sea…

Maybe, maybe it wasn’t love at all,
But just my lonely heart’s call…

Maybe I just assumed everything that was happening,
Was “love” that into my life happiness was bringing…

Well, it doesn’t matter what may be the cause,
For there is nothing else to cause me loss…

I am, after all, living in an empty room,
Devoid of everything except sorrow and gloom…

Over which “love” painted fake colours,
That washed away along with my tears…

But im fine now, with this existence,
Where nothing else can be a grievance…

So, I stare into this empty room.
Which is in fact my heart where only darkness does bloom…

It’s in newspaper ads, and on T.V,
Pasted everywhere for us to see.

A new entertainer in town, they say,
Giving a performance before going away.

Who is it this time, I wonder,
Who is it that people go to with a cheer?

It’s a ventriloquist, a puppet man,
He’s supposedly made everyone his fan.

And so it was to see the show I went,
It was a boring life’s escapade, godsent.

Robby Rob, was his name,
This name so engulfed in fame.

He was spectacular, and really good,
Now everyone’s excitement I understood.

There he was on stage,
About twenty five years of age.

He and his puppet, joking, laughing,
To everyone happiness he did bring.

Then the show was done,
He left with a smile on his face,
We had had our share of fun,
While he and his puppet left in grace.

How happy he looked, how content was he,
He seemed to be satisfied and filled with glee.

But, who knew what was really happening,
In his life from the beginning?

For in his room,
So full of gloom,

The ventriloquist was a different person,
One who looked glum and devoid of fun.

Who knew,  that he was an abandoned orphan,
Who had struggled for obtaining a bun?

Who knew, the problems in his life,
His heart cancer, his huge bank debt, his eloped wife???

The lifeless puppet, his only friend,
The only one who’ll stay till the end.

As he sheds his tears,
One falls near his puppet’s eye,
And as he is filled with his ever growing fears.
Along with him his puppet does cry…

They hug each other, close and tight,
For them, nothing seems to be going right.

And yet, and yet, I walk home with envy
Thinking that the Ventriloquist’s life is happy and carefree…