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Aug 2014 · 692
Untitled
Roshnai Aug 2014
Would you know fear if you swallowed it?
It's like eating off death in bits, only you're alive but you feel it;
It's the bellows of craving that want to screech through your throat
And as you ache, you accept- what you don't want but you've come to need.

An intrusion, a love crime, a you.

Would you know poison as you breathed it?
It's like inspiring a monoxide, only it chokes but you like it.
It's the hunger for catharsis that only comes with pain,
As you embrace that this can destroy you- and you need it to.

Because I do.
It's the only way I feel about you.
Jan 2014 · 130
Happy birthday Ma
Roshnai Jan 2014
Happy birthday, my dear eternity encompassed in your five foot four!
Not an existence, not a life, not a being
But a soul.**

Life without you would be like-
pizza without cheese
cold coffee without a brain-freeze
the first fire without a stone
KBC without Big B's baritone
Itching summer without a breeze
Phlegm without a sneeze
Sherlock without BBC
Bengal without Tagore
(Awful similes I have, in galore)
A lock without a key
KFC without the grease
You without a me.
Although biologically, you programmed me to be.
I shall now stop with these lame references, please.
Don't worry though, there's plenty else ******* for you to read-

Do you know the little universes of bliss that live within-
the little toe that peeks snuggly out of the blanket?
the warmth of cocoa down your throat when your skin's turned ice?
the whitened sunshine after a marathon of screaming rain,
the ripping off of a day old stale band-aid?
the jubilance in a wrapped unopened gift,
the hollow promises made in new lovers' trysts?
The crisp first page of an old forgotten book,
The cold side of the pillow on a sleepless night,
The first kiss, the first car, heck even the first child?

I muse on these little and big joys life promises to bring in its due
And when I'm done musing, this conclusion with certainty, I've construed-
No comfort in my life, I rue, will ever compare to the beautiful soapy smell of you.
My mother, it's much beyond just genetic *******, how much I love you.

I wrote silly rhymes, I gushed about the comforts that'll never compare.
But with a mother like you, nothing I'll ever say will dare
Touch the very skin, the very essence of what an incredible work of genes you are
I'm not just lucky, I'm like a ****** unicorn to have you in my life so far
And even though it's your day to be celebrated today,
The greatest gift is still mine, I'm sorry to say.
Because no gift you've ever been given in this life, I promise you,
Will ever compare to the gift of having a mother like you.
Wanted to write something meaningful for the mother's birthday. Instead ended up writing a pile of garbage. But it's the closest I can do. You can't write something meaningful for someone whose very existence defines you.
Roshnai Jan 2014
The words don't fall anymore
The thoughts have iced like a cold November night
The limericks tell me they miss me
My writing could do with a sweater-
I've stunted my mind.

Some call it writer's block
But the truth is I've just realised-
that there's no point in writing more lies.
Because what are you even supposed to do
When you realise that the best fiction you've ever written is you?
It's the middle of the night and existential crises seem only fitting. I had always wanted to figure out why I had stopped writing before (before I resumed lately again). And this seemed like the only explanation.
Jan 2014 · 726
The favourite acid
Roshnai Jan 2014
Your prizes are collecting dust by their phones
But pretty women you've won don't seem pretty anymore
There's a penny to your name but not one for your shame
Take a breath, restless one; your love-rut's back on
The conquest is done, your charming guile has won.

Come with me.
Pause with me.
Welcome this hollow with me.
Feel the ache from relentless chase.
Let's write a little
cry a little
moan a little
But love a lot.

I'll make you my favourite acid, little trips ever night
A giggle for a kiss a kiss for a giggle till we're giddy-light
You'll tell me lies, lots of pretty sachharine lies
I'll smile, invent a book worth of fiction for my mind
Then just when I'm chips in, cut my wings mid-flight

I promise, for you I'll cry.
Jan 2014 · 918
when our lips meet
Roshnai Jan 2014
I spilled ink over your little blips-
the blinks you make and the seconds you don't breathe
when our lips meet

You seem like a tall idea
I could swear it took a moment to let the stench of it in
your saccharine words so true, I turn meek
when our lips meet
there's an air freeze
Dec 2013 · 1.5k
Hello sad clown
Roshnai Dec 2013
Hello sad clown
You must peel that irony off your lips, you thieved it from me.
Your grotesque eyes bore through don't they?
If so, why am I not all bones yet?
Hollow noises would ricochet would my flesh would turn weary of holding me.

Hello sad clown
With your frown- upside down-
Is your plastic as tensile as my heart seems to be?
I would slice a knife beneath your sloping eyebrows, so you wouldn't see what I have.
It was pretty as hope and it decided to **** me.

Hello sad clown
Do you miss your happy shadow?
Or does it leech around in sadistic mockery murmuring things about your past?
I would lend you all my heart-cheats -
But they would involve the blackness of your soul or inside your eyelids.

**Mirror mirror on the wall,
Am I the saddest clown of them all?

— The End —