We're living in a gyrating mass of alcohol
All fighting for skin on skin contact
Losing consciousness to animalistic instinct
Let's forget we're humans, let it all ******* go.
Gulp the fire and the teasing hell,
Shake your *** to the music again.
Touch me, touch, me I want to feel alive
While I deaden my mind, only skin feelin the drive.
And when I'm fired with that liquid, I bleed,
I cry tears of golden alcohol.
And when I'm burning with that fake happiness,
I'm laughing under an influence that's bound to fall.
So touch me, kiss me, lick my neck
that's drying with your ****** alcohol so fast.
I set my mind on fire and it burned,
But I kept gyrating with the ashes in my dance.

As I watch her sleep
The moonlight seeps in from the window
And caresses her skin gently, just like I wish I could
Her eyelids flutter, chasing another dream
Causing her eyelashes to touch her cheek and go
Her chest rises and falls, so calm
Unaware of all the world's filth, her innocence hugs her like a white nightgown
She purses and moves her lips in silent speech
Those two rose petals that would be any gardeners delight
And when I say her name Even the sound floats like a feather
And lands softly on her ears
Only to roll off of them as she sleeps
and I keep on staring at my dream as she dreams away

A teacher with a nasal voice
Droning on with as much passion
As we listen with; none.
The whirring and intermittent squeaking
Of the ceiling fan which has
roofed over God knows how many
Indifferent young bloods
That sat on these very benches
And contemplated, maybe over
Their own nasal voiced ghoul
Or how this wasn't true knowledge
Or maybe how nothing is worth it anymore.
These "guides" that force feed us facts everyday
Like a mental patient being fed his meds
I don't think I'll ever get out of this asylum.

These floating possibilities in my head
End in happiness, end in dread
To which oft I ignorant lay
Unknown to reality, a protected stray

Whirring continuously in my mind
Warring for supremacy, these thoughts wild
Always encounter, always collide
Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Blurry shapes sometimes do take the form
Of a thousand suns, of a thousand storms
Re Materialize then again
Poking and teasing my strained brain

These lingering "could be"s stay afloat
Demanding my attention, demanding me to take note
That I still am right where I was
With an un acknowledged uniqueness and deliberate flaws

Walking barefoot head swaying
To the music that the moon plays
only for me on nights like these
My hair scraping the very shoulders
That stand proudly arched back
  Under  dark windy skies
  But otherwise stoop with the sun's weight
I could say that I am tangled
Or maybe I toy around with the idea
of being a mess,   One who's knots you'll lovingly detangle
With your calloused inked fingers.
I dream with open eyes
And surround myself with longing sighs
I'd rather experience you as a pain
Than not remember you at all
That's what these nights do to me
They Take my movements and turn them into a ballad
If only daytime was as light

I heard the smooth jazz music
When she walked by
Heard the instant drop in the sound
As she flashed a smile
Could vaguely hear the bass
Twinging real low
As she moved like water
Without even knowing so
It was tough not to fall
Splat! At her feet
All I wanted to do
Was hear her symphony
I don't know what I drank
Was it the starry champagne
Or was it her, the one who captured me senseless
The one I was trying to taste
She was an assault on my senses
The deadliest one there ever was
Would've welcomed death openly
Had it been from her dart
I looked at that haunting assassin
Smiling that dooming smile
Didn't she know what she did
When she turned her eyes
I wished almost painfully
That she would keep on playing that jazz
What else could I do but listen and stare
I never even stood a chance

Books should never end
They should just go on
Or perhaps have an interlude
That doesn’t leave us so forlorn

Protagonists shouldn’t die
They should just be glorified
Real life is death-oriented as it is
We should atleast have some worded bliss

Each chapter should just go on
Rather than feel the doom
Of the pages thinning into the nearing end
Ah the dreaded waiting gloom

Why weave such people that affect us
In more ways than we can imagine
Than take them away, reduce the meaning
Of the heartbreak from being abandoned

These writers are sadists, I tell you
And their words are instruments of torture
Molding lives instead of sentences
Transcending pages and penetrating lives

So to all readers I suggest
Reading will just make you obsessed
And to all authors I recommend
Write such books that never end

Each month torn of,
pages upon pages;
confined by your past,
cages upon cages

Yes it's true
we all get a fresh page
but what if it's indented
By past writings and spaces?

Maybe we're all just
based upon our base
Defined by what happened
on a former date

But Still every day we try
searching hands, fingers reaching out
Almost there touching the imagined fruit
But still barely missing out

It's a rope made out
of roads we walked on
Chains made out
of things we dreamt and did
Clasped around our ankles taut
We'll never be able to close the lid

Thus when others see new dates
I see new maps to those old destinations
And when they open up hope's floodgates
I lock them up with familiar inclinations

Your touch sends jolts of
Electricity crackling along
My skin, creating rifts
Like an earthquake does on the
Ground. You split me into halves two-
What I am now & what I was before you

Your voice drenches me
Like a tsunami wave, from
My head to my toes.
In your decibels I'm soaked
And I'd rather be wet and high
With you than dry and low

Your words are tornadoes
Wreaking havoc And I'm the
centre eye. They're All I hear
and see. Even your Chaos
appeals to me and Is what
I want to be Surrounded by

**** boy, you're a natural disaster
Waiting to happen.
And like Any smart rat
I know I should flee
But I want to be wrecked by you
You're my very own calamity

My control stood far, staring back at me
External locus, controlled externally
Tried to soak it back inside
That ball of fire should've been in my eyes
Told my soul to let it go
The world and its chances don't define your role
The future's strings can never be in our hands
So we must grasp onto our own selves
And try to stand
And with that thought
My control disappeared from in front of my sight
It found its way to me, back inside

She walks the stony streets with the newly turned 19 steps
And sways her hips and licks those lips
The looks turn to stares their eyes look on
and she fills her inner dessert with their ***** dreams
Passers by whisper in their  all knowing indifference
She wasn't love as a child she likes to lash out and scream
Likes to be noticed for those suggestive smiles
They are like warm hugs, those staring and roving eyes
But she already knew that
Knew why her innards are always dry and she knows those leeches' attention is only passing by
But what can you tell someone so desperate to be adored
she does not want to be loved she just doesn't want to be ignored

Oh Dear Silence, who do you conceal?
Is someone there, or to a shadow I speak
I call out once and then restrain, a tiring act
Is someone there or not? Are you there for a fact
Sometimes, you respond, depends on your blues
Me? I'm just happy to get an answer from you
It leaves my stingy, this emotional hide-and-seek
For once and for all will you truly speak
Happiness on one, doubt on the other hand
Emotions so extreme, for once something bland
Would actually suffice, would be okay
Just tell me this once, Are You Going To Stay?

One day I'll  over analyze to the stage of delirium
Hopefully that day is near
At least then I won't have to think of you

Let me pour you with the love
You adoringly drench me in
Lau your head on my chest
And cry away your pain
I'll hold it, I'll hold it all
Cradle your pain too
It's okay for you to fall
I'm right here to catch you
You can hold me tight
Like a child holds his mother
I can be your support
Anything for my lover
Give me a chance to embrace
You like you hold me
As if I'm made from glass
And could break easily
My arms wait for you and so does my empty *****
Lay your head on me darling
You can close your eyes and drift on

i give free tours of my mind palace
to anyone who reads my words
the gates just open themselves
as you devour what you read of my world

such easy access for you
never thought to put a lock on my views
drink up, my lovelies the drinks of my lines
feast on all of the poems i write

go ahead my darlings, judge what i've said
tourists like you only pounce on my shreds

It's times like these
When my usually tiny gaps
Tear into huge chasms
They are waiting to be filled
With what, I don't know
With who, I'm scared to know
But it's when I'm gaping wide like this
That the words start to trickle out
Like ****** mud stains under wet flowerpots
All I know is that I don't know
I am empty and hollow, devoid of
Something I'm not even aware of
Such a comic tragedy, wouldn't you say?
It's like Hepburn said
I can handle the murky blues
But I can't handle the Reds-
Those moments when I don't even know why I'm so uneasy
Maybe it's been too long since I have been challenged
Or maybe I'm just flaky,
fluttering from one inconsequential thing to another;

Ah, If only knowledge of my incompleteness could make me complete
...I'd be bloated by now

I loved you
That was my Hamartia,
You lost me.
and that is yours.

I can't write like you do
I can't really compose
Grace has always eluded me
In movement and in prose

You write of such big things
But they are still all the same
Me? I can't really toy
With ideas so insane

I'm not a professional wordsmith
My art hasn't been trained
When I write, the words flow easy
Unabashed and Untamed

You and your words are sculpted
Precisely, with finesse
But with a subdued gloss and lack luster
So twisted so suppressed

And now I see my dear self
Finally in a clear way
Not in my movements or in the glass
but on my inked page

So if you ask me, dear self
Which cage do I choose?
I'd choose my dented brass one
Instead of your golden noose.

People are better when you don't know them
They can be whoever you want them to be
It's not the same when you get to know them
Their reality limits them  
I think that's the problem,
I've put everyone that I find the teeniest bit interesting up on a pedestal
Why do I forget that they are humans. Just humans.
Guess you don't have to be religious to be into idolatry

You are haunted and confused
By a custom made hell
And your thoughts are a struggle
And your words don't jell
But I see you, all of you
Ive focused and pierced
Your words, old to the new
And like a case of torn muscles
You're setting fire to my insides
But the irony is that
I'm still a sucker for your eyes
The dead juke box that beats
Inside of my chest belts out
The Song of you again and again
And I am happy to be lost
The only itch on my deluded skin
That rises tenaciously again and again
Is you're already too full with gone women and games
And I know that all of us have our very own ghosts
But I'd rather be your haunting
Than be no one of note

I've Started reading my old works
My own literary corpses
From other places, other times
And lives I used to don

I've started meeting my old words
Like those friends forgotten
The ones, that even though have left
Still linger in the niches of my heart

I've started thinking of my past feats
Instead of my present failures
I gaze longingly at this visage of time
To make up for my lost delights

I've started questioning myself
My beliefs, my dreams and me
If I shed this cloak of apathy
What will I really be?

I've started something,  I'm not sure
But it's something unimportant
As it's just for me, my own tryst
But I've started finally.

The night is mine, it's darkness my own
It doesn't question my moves
It leaves me peacefully alone
For in the day I wonder
For in the day I wander
Aimless,  hopeless and oh so plain
Ah! But the night is magical
Possibilities lurking in every shade
Just me and the world, no pretense
Just me and myself,  finally making sense.
In the daylight I slog, far too uncaring
In the night I'm almost graceful, beautifully daring
So I split the day, divide it into parts
These slots of sunlight,  one for each shard
Of my hidden abilities, my overriden self
To carry into the dark , when I delve in myself
And this is how I set my nights ablaze
I call the darkness my own but still light up the grays

Seeing what you wrote makes me want to write,
A poetic back and forth, if you will;
And I have all these words (the ones you'd like)
But I'd probably spill them all to shove them back in
Feeling what your words make me feel,
Makes want to be seen, to see whether I'm one of the many
Who fell in these words probably never to rise again
Or whether I am the one who stands out on your periphery
This is the problem with my ***, or maybe just me
I feel too much and hope too much
So while you go gallivanting with the bad broken pretty boy vibe
I'll just sit here and think of the words I'll never say to you
While hoping, maybe I'm the one you think of

I whisper poems in your ears when you've fallen asleep
Half wanting to be heard and half wanting to stay safe

I leave maps all over kitchen counters for you
The ones that are so Easy to read that even I would be able to make sense of them

I turn my head to look back at you while I'm walking away, Just like they do in those movies I've memorised
But you get swallowed up by the people too **** easy for me to be able to meet your eyes

I sing my jokes and laughs in the valley of your sadness and when they echo, they reverberate in pride
-Oh to be the one who made you laugh-
But my own sighs fall flat on your ground, I can't deal with my own grief, the only impasse

I swallow my wooden ego down My throat
-I will always swallow gladly-
And open my mouth to get you to open yours
But your silence has become my frequency

We've run out of things to say and games to play
But we still keep on rolling the dice
I have a thing for love but my lover is distance himself
No wonder then that abandoning you is the only love poem I know how to write

My poetry lies there forgotten
Amidst the bustling crowd
Piled up books weighing it down
Books about practicality, books about reality

My poetry is still bursting
With possibilities of magic and of love
Ah! But the weight of logic
Weights down upon it

My poetry is all I rely on
Because the real world
Is too much to carry with myself
So I don't let it in

My poetry is my only visitor
On days when all is lost
It comes passionately, doesn't stay for long
And it retires exhausted

My poetry is.
My poetry was.
But, will my poetry be?
Ah! My poetry is 'me'

Do you know that feeling when
your heart is full
Of that horrible feeling
Everything is wrong
And your heart swells so much
That it's in your throat
And you might just throw up
Retch and retch and dry heave?
Yeah, neither do I

I don't want to write about you
.
.
.
.
.
Yet again.

She called last night
After months of radio silence

The first ring
Why? why was she calling?
Did she need anything?
that's why she'd usually called earlier
Did she even deserve my help?
She was the one who stopped
Stopped talking stopped calling stopped sharing
Nothing. just nothing.
like I was nothing
like we'd been nothing

The second ring
Why the hell was she calling?
how dare she?
I should just pick up and scream my head off
hurt her with my voice as much as she hurt me with her silence
or I just shouldn't pick up at all

the third ring
What's the whole point?
She'll listen to my rant with manufactured concern
and when I have bled everything out
when my bones have been robbed of the anger that galvanised them
she'll crumble these bones to dust
with a 'sorry'
and it will start all over again

the fourth ring
Maybe it could start again
once she apologises, we can talk
I won't be emotional, I promise
I will be cool, more detached
it's just fun to talk to her
I just won't have any expectations

the fifth ring
It could work this time..
I mean, this plan didn't work the last time she came back
Or the time before that when she returned
Ugh maybe I should just let it ring.

the sixth ring
You know what I'll pick it up
I can do this
I'll just find what she wants
It'll be okay

*My hands reach out, trembling
About to click on that green button
And the phone stops ringing.

let's go hunting tonight
i'm in the mood to don my armour
let's go slay, let's ignite
i'm feeling like a carnivorous flower

I paint my nails red
the colour of blood
and soon this color will
adorn my tongue

i darken the tints
to match the hue
of my intentions tonight
of what i'll do with you


of lithe movements and pretty lies
watch you fall for my honey eyes
of sweet perfumes and deja vu
you'll be my number twenty-two

finally some idea in your eyes
realisation of danger to your life
ah but my friend you're too late
my lips have already sealed your fate

with a ferile roar this all ends
before you can move or comprehend
the red of my nails matches the red of my teeth
temporarily sated, a beautiful beast

it's another night, another time
i'm in the mood to go hunting tonight
number twenty-three soon to be dead
And i'll just paint my nails blood red