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Apr 2020 · 941
unsolved
Sasha Ranganath Apr 2020
there are only two genders
trans is not real
are you a boy now?
i would be open to experiment, though
you need to have your brain checked
what are you?

unsolved.
i am unsolved.

an unsolved puzzle,
equation,
mystery,
rubik's cube,
mirage,
the horizon.

everything you can't figure out at first glance,
something you have to squint at to understand.

but i don't need solving,
i don't need understanding,
i don't need to keep explaining.

i am me,
i am unsolved,
and i am happy.
national poetry writing month day 4 - unsolved
Apr 2020 · 136
distance
Sasha Ranganath Apr 2020
i don't remember the name of your city anymore.
just that it's 4,483 miles away and i sent you my
sweater in the post four... five years ago.

for seven months we were each others' shoulder to lean on, had each others' arms to fall into,
eyes to get lost inside.

i still remember the way you'd hide your face in your hands every time i looked at you for a second too long
through the blurry webcam.

i still hear your giggle and the way you'd ask why i look at you like that, and the way i'd say it's because
i was in love with you.

the way you'd say 'i love you' and i'd say it back.

it's been years since i wrote about you.
the last time i did, i wondered if either of us fell off
the face of the earth, would we ever know?

and tonight, i write this with a smile,
a little bit of pain and regret,
and my mind going what if, what if, what if.

you showed me what love means even across continents,
even though we knew we'd never really
be able to hold each other,
even though we knew it would end.

distance.
it's what brought us together,
what set us apart,
and what finally broke our hearts.
national poetry writing month day 3: distance
Apr 2020 · 295
personified colours
Sasha Ranganath Apr 2020
you are electric blue,
charged up,
wreaking havoc like there's no tomorrow.

you are fiery red,
up in flames,
resisting change,
can't keep a straight face.

you are blood orange,
smiling through the pain,
a cheshire cat stare.

and you are sunset yellow,
soft and kind - the warm embrace of a lover.

you are a stroke of violet,
taking life as it comes,
slow, unwavering.

you are the pink of cheeks that blush,
a slow dance in the kitchen at midnight.

you are starry night black,
flawed and beautiful and eternal.

you are green swiveled into white,
serene, calm, still.

you are the full spectrum.

so do your dance and paint every empty canvas with your palette a different pattern every time -
this is why you are alive.
national poetry writing month day 2: personified colours
Apr 2020 · 127
gentle
Sasha Ranganath Apr 2020
to heal is to rage
to heal is to be confused
to heal is to feel the wrath of sorrow and how it can turn a smile sour for seemingly ever.
it will be ages before you go gently into that good night
spending dusk to dawn wondering
wondering why and wondering how
how you let something so precious break between your fingers that were holding it so soft, so dear
a broken videotape in your mind replaying replaying replaying every time you could have done something, said something different but didn't.

healing is cruel, tearing every fibre out with no mercy - you are unlearning
unlearning and relearning over and over again
and surely enough, you're back on your feet, feeling ready to take the world on one more time.

but somewhere you start to stack bricks around your heart hoping it will hurt less the next time around (secretly hoping there won't be a next time around)
and maybe it'll work, maybe it won't
but every time something slips through your hands, the panic while it hits the ground and breaks into a thousand pieces remains,
no matter how gentle you are or how much you care.
national poetry writing month day 1: gentle
Apr 2019 · 156
seven.
Sasha Ranganath Apr 2019
with you i learnt that home is not just made of rooms and four walls // that family does not begin and end with whose blood i share or where i come from // that comfort is not found in just the pillows i rest my head on // that the skies turn pink and shades of blue somewhere in the world everytime i think of you // that even though the tides ebb and flow, high and low, my love never wavers // that when the clouds start to cry, it's because i miss you i miss you i miss you // that when flowers bloom tomorrow, you're telling me you miss me too // that even if the earth breaks open and we all die, through our last breaths we'll smile, we'll just smile / and we'll know that although our bodies fall apart, the stardust in our souls will always know their paths / so that someday when the universe is reborn, my dear, we'll find our way back to each other // love.

- sasha r.
Mar 2019 · 146
myg
Sasha Ranganath Mar 2019
myg
when you open your eyes
i see vast space
where your thoughts flail
like leaves on a windy day
when you begin to speak
i hear and old soul
with a lingering passion
to go on, move on, what next
your words burn me
like a cigarette on raw skin
they pierce through me
like a thousand icebergs all at once
and when you try letting go
and becoming someone else
i beg for you to return
and wrap me once again
with poetry and prose
cuss words and all
you are all the oceans
and galaxies
the whole universe
and what's beyond it
baby you
could be the hope for all posterity
Mar 2019 · 436
goodbye
Sasha Ranganath Mar 2019
you're gone and the wreckage ensues
you're gone and the heartache continues
you're gone and you're never coming back
i miss you.

because when you're dying,
your body is tired of fighting for
you,
fighting with
you.

the internal monologue is coming
to an end now
it's getting dark now
eyes closing now
mind quiet now.

still
life
no
life

broken whispers,
shivers

i have to go now

i have to go now

i have to go now
Dec 2018 · 209
nuances
Sasha Ranganath Dec 2018
a handful of air separates us,
and i'm trying to bottoms up the nerves.
there's no prelude, no warning -
i'm just a sober drunk.

it's been two thousand days since i felt this way,
and i don't know what to do,
because i always **** it up.
do i force it to go away?
or do i let it stay
a while?

what can i say that'll wash my anxieties away?
maybe you'll say something, but can i wait?
can i wait until the waves are up to my head?
can i bear the weight of uncertainty?
can i withstand handful after handful of air
until there's only a pinch of it left?
can my eyes stay open every time you glow so bright?
can i keep my lips from trembling every time you're near?
can i stop my mind from going hazy?
and can i judge the intensity of things are they too fast are they too slow too much too less too much talking too much rambling too much waiting too much hoping too much too much too much.

maybe i can't.
and maybe you can't either
wrote something i really felt, after nearly a whole year.
Feb 2018 · 459
someone on my mind
Sasha Ranganath Feb 2018
I have never had a valentine.
Yes, I had that one guy, that one time
But to him, it was just a
A valenti---- don't really love you kinda love.
A valenti---- wish it wasn't you kinda love.
And to me, it was a
Valenti---- really don't think I'm straight kinda love.
Valenti---- am SO uncomfortable, get me outta here kinda love.

I have never had a valentine,
Yes, I had that one girl, that one time,
But we were miles away from each other.
4,483 to be exact.
With her I felt great
For a while
Like a candle
At the end of its life
You can see the waltzing flame meet the quiet of night
Midnight
Should I stay up kinda night
Skype call kinda night
I love you but... I gotta go... kinda night.

I have never had a Valentine
And it's not because he didn't care enough
Or she wasn't close enough.
I've never had a Valentine because I'm either too much or just not enough
I'm insecure, so insecure of the way I talk, the way I walk, the way these two strands of hair stick out, the way this one tooth just doesn't stay in line, the child inside me made entirely of antidepressants and fries, the truths, the lies, the incessant goodbyes.
I've never had a Valentine and I'm lonely
As hell
I'm so lonely I'll fall in love before you blink,
I'll pick you up when you're standing still,
I'll spin you around like I finally made up my mind to do the laundry
I'll kiss you good morning and I'll kiss you goodnight
Tonight
Tomorrow
Maybe forever.
You see this
is my problem.
This passion
This raging forest fire of emotions
This racing broken heart of haunted suspicions.
You aren't perfection
You're my perfection.
In my dictionary, your name is scrawled into the definition of every positive adjective, every beautiful noun, everything that's not a frown.

You see when I imagine my valentine, I see stars in the sky
As cliché as that sounds, I see stars in the sky and her nose perfectly aligning with the moonlight,
Her eyes slightly unsure whether to meet mine
Her lips lightly quivering with her gaze falling on mine
Her fingers slowly inching up to the tips of mine
Her smile faintly turning into a garden of lullabies
The place I go to mourn my goodbyes and watch the sun rise.
When I think of my Valentine,
I hear her laugh turning into a snort, laughing even louder, her cheeks turning red, tears in her eyes.
And I laugh along, falling in love with every crinkle by her eyes, just hoping she's not dying inside.
Just hoping she's not just pretending to love me tonight. Praying she believes we're more than just alright.

I've never had a Valentine,
But I'm hoping
I'm really ******* hoping
Somewhere in this crowd
I might have changed your mind.
Sasha Ranganath Jul 2017
im dead
but im dancing.
in a masquerade meant for mortals
im prancing.

adjusting to the ebb and flow
of the uncertain next moment
that engulfs the ocean floor
i stay on my toes
im trying to stay afloat.

the ocean swirls and froths
concocting brain juices
and camouflaging bruises.
the bruises left by unwanted visitors;
a mountain lion on the bed,
**** i left the window open again.

this neon demon nestles in my mind
it comes in flashes at 2:13
when the street lights are flickering
and the old street dog is limping.
it jerks me awake and says "hey there, how you doing"
i say "im fine" and turn to my side
"wont you stay for a drink?" it whispers
"n-no thanks" i stutter
"you look like you could use one" its voice grows louder
i stare in silence and feel it coming closer
"here" i receive a handful of whisky and shards
and with my bleeding fingers and tear-stained cheeks,
i take a sip.
it smiles viciously, "i hope you like it. i made it just for you"
i smile back with a shard making its way out.

im wiping the blood off my chin
im wiping the tears off my cheeks
im hollow but im trying
not to cave in.
"it's great" i take the last gulp.
"goodnight my love" it sinks back into its abode
now with a torn throat and mangled face
i make myself comfortable;
"goodnight" i whisper back.

and suddenly it's 7 am.
the wounds are gone
again
the mountain lion played its trick once more
and im left here all alone
detached
where is my head
i drink up the ocean anyway;
i'd rather lose my mind
than find it in shambles.
i'd rather it run away
than keep it in shackles.

you see
my mind isn't home to me.
im in a mangled mess of
a confused gender identity,
a fluid sexuality,
depression and anxiety,
panic attacks and sobriety,
juxtaposition and similarity,
emptiness and mortality,

and the neon demon inside of me.
i saw the movie neon demon and was very inspired
Feb 2017 · 872
disheveled
Sasha Ranganath Feb 2017
drifting in and out of wakefulness
feeling everything and nothing all at once
that lump in my throat
but i can’t cry

i shut my eyes and press against them my palms.
i see swivels and vanishing spirals,
i see everything and nothing all at once
and i’m begging for it not to stop.

i scream into a pillow leaving traces of saliva
i still can’t cry, i still just can’t cry.

my head hurts like a hundred fingers flicking at it
it tingles like ants crawling underneath.
it feels sunken like the titanic with all its people
and i’m jack in the freezing water.

my eyes heave and try fluttering shut
i say no, not now.

it’s strange how my brain is a different entity,
almost like a guest that is always “going to leave”
but ends up staying the whole time.

maybe if i slit my forehead open
the ants under my skin will stop
maybe my head will finally feel light
even though my hair has been gone for days.

dear disheveled mind,
*******.
Feb 2017 · 721
black
Sasha Ranganath Feb 2017
black can be two things:
nothing
or everything.
black can tell you stories
or stare at you in silence.
black can be the depths of hell
or the limitless universe.
you can get lost in its darkness
or be found in its unparalleled dimensions.

black can be cold and idle
or etch an agonizing fire in your heart.
it can invite you for dinner
or devour you whole.
you can hear your blood rushing in its quiet
or be haunted by the resident banshee.

you can fall in love under the swirls of black ink when your tears touch the wet brush strokes
and you can lose yourself in the intricacy of her black pupils at midnight under the moon.
but you can also look death in the eyes and submit yourself to it
you can feel your heart blackening with the poison of heartbreak and grief.
you can feel the raging sun and the crumbling constellations if you close your eyes hard enough.
thunder jolts through your body like lightning on live wire
intensity builds up leaving  you breathless but begging for more.

black can be the moment you took your first breath
and black can be the moment you take your last.
Feb 2017 · 725
fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck
Sasha Ranganath Feb 2017
screaming at the top of my lungs won’t help anymore
because i’m always going to return to a home
which waits for me in a spectrum of disappointments and crises.

what good is a blade to the arm going to do
when blood won’t erase the permanent scars that already exist
and my ears ring with screams of my abandoned past.

i believed i could indulge in trustfall
but that only made my trust fall
even further down the vortex
of mistake after mistake after mistake
am i incorrigible.

am i incorrigible i ask my reflection in the mirror
and the mirror breaks.
it crumbles, shatters and breaks
and tells me to go away.

another year of existence goes by
my existence that’s caught in a cobweb of broken promises
and hands that were let go of.
“happy birthday”
congratulations, you’ve lived to see another day.

you’ve lived to see another day but in what way
in what way will you move
in what way will you rescue yourself
from love across continents,
four thousand four hundred and eighty three miles away
how will you save yourself from drowning
in the width between your stretching fingers and the blade
how will you stop hurting yourself
by assuming responsibility and clinging on to false longevity.
you cross your own limits too ******* often
too ******* often to even notice that the line exists.

take a ******* break
you don’t need to keep polishing
your heart of gold
you don’t need to keep ripping
your sanity apart for a couple of approving nods
you don’t need to say yes to everything
you see because you need to be free,
you are not in a pod
and you are not a pea.

you’re hearing voices, noises
uncontrollable, you’re not okay
and that’s okay.
but how do i survive
when the one i love
can’t even look me in the eyes
and say it’ll be fine
how can i live in peace
when time moves so ******* slowly
and the me that loved the sunlight
is craving for long nights
that dim light in the corner
is the closest i'll ever get
to loving the sunrise.
Feb 2017 · 797
selfish
Sasha Ranganath Feb 2017
​when you wish an earthquake would pave way for rubble to make you a cradle until the gravestone can be placed,

when you wish an airplane would crash into your window and pin your heart and heaviness away,

when youre breathing to hang on to life, yet want to give it away

when you can hear your lungs fill and deflate, making you feel like youre going to cave in

when you feel the noise around you is slowly going to pluck every braincell out of your head and not let them regenerate

when the music next to your bed is the only thing keeping you sane when footsteps make your heart race when clawing at your legs keeps the screams at bay when making another mark of metal seems too far away

when youre just yelling for the sun to go away because the sun makes people stay awake with noise grenades flying here and there it’s chaotic and a vortex of despair

am i being selfish

because noise grenades are borne by people trying to live another day while im here in my bed under blankets  

cursing them away
Feb 2017 · 674
uncertainty
Sasha Ranganath Feb 2017
if life is like a box of chocolates
and i will never know what i’ll get,
how long do i have to await
the poisoned one?

or is every piece filled
with a little bit of poison
that takes eighty years to ****
or seventy five
or tomorrow
or today.

you ever wake up at 6 am on a holiday
and try to force yourself back to sleep?
bur your body just refuses and insists
to slouch into the arms of your mind
the arms of your mind that keep you
in shackles of an uncertain next second
what if a bomb goes off
what if an earthquake happens
what if that plane in the sky i hear crashes into my window
what if my neighbours die
what if someone is murdered in front of my eyes
what if what if what if
this uncertain next second is certain
to be the cradle i lay in as i take my last breath
will you say goodbye?
or will you walk by like you’ve always done?

will you fulfill the hunger at the pit of my stomach?
will you play my favourite songs at my funeral?
(will there even be a funeral?
do you know my favourite songs?)

this uncertain next second will sing me to slumber
and shake me awake at 6 am on a holiday
remind me of my 2 am poetry
and put my body in your hands to carry.
Sasha Ranganath Feb 2017
i love you so much
today
tomorrow
and the uncertain next second.
through our anxiety and my tendencies
through your nausea and guilt.

my love,
i will love you today
i will love you tomorrow
but what if there's no tomorrow.
what if i turn to ash
what if i'm six feet below the ground
will you know?
will you realise?
4483 miles away?
will your hands reach my burning body?
will your lips touch my lips that are fading?
will your tears stain my face that now serves as a garden for new life?
will i feel your knees making a burrow in the ground
as you crouch over and tell me all the things you never could?

tell me will you promise me not to make it rain too much?
give me your word, you'll find another someone to love
say you'll get off the mud and make your way back home
because i have the privilege today
of easing you out of your misery, even by just a budge
but tomorrow you may be the one
trying to open my eyes, giving me a nudge
wake up
don't go just yet
we never got to dawn or dusk.

my love,
we never got to dawn or dusk
but you will
you will, right?
let go before you hit the bone
let go before you can't feel a thing anymore
let go
remember me
but let go.

for the last time,
i'm sleepy
goodnight
i love you.
for my love all the way in sweden
Sep 2016 · 2.3k
sandy eyes and silhouettes
Sasha Ranganath Sep 2016
sitting down drawing circles on sand
by the ocean for 16 years without disturbances,
save a few hefty feet trampling down sand castles
but then one day something happened
and an overwhelming wave comes hurling itself at you,
and you have no escape plan despite living on the sand all your life
the wave comes bearing galaxies from atlantis,
blinding starlight, and a myriad perfect seashells.
it feels like an eternity,
being consumed by the wave as you're given
a tour of every attraction there is,
receiving free samples every now and then.
you succumb to the star dust,
enthralling you like a child at disneyland,
or tumblr teens on the fourth of july.
it feels like you're the only one lucky enough
to witness this spectacle, and you're marvelling
marvelling
marvelling
marvelling
marvel-
.
.
.
.
.
no air
you're gasping
muddy
sand in your eyes
and through the excruciating discomfort,
you see a hundred other silhouettes looking back at you.
---;
this is how it was, loving him briefly.
and this will stare him in the face,
but perhaps his eyes, too, full of sand
will stare right back at me
“silhouettes” he'll say
“silhouettes are what make my day”
Sep 2016 · 594
ballads of being aware
Sasha Ranganath Sep 2016
he sings about a family photograph
in a language i understand no better
than a mathematical equation
and i grasp the strength and weakness in his voice
and the vibrations they send through my wooden table and all its contents
my eyelids flutter open and shut like a dying moth,
trying to be in sync with the music but unable to
i stretch and fold my legs as i hit the replay button,
crack some knuckles and glance around in double vision
as i'm being slowly oxidized to death
i have pictures of a smiling childhood idol
pasted on the wardrobes,
a  series of little pale yellow lights
taped apologetically to the textured, pastel blue wall.
i have writings on my wall in colours i cant find within myself,
and i suddenly pray this poem won't disappear
with the glitches of technology.
i pray to nobody, no god, no spirit.
being the atheist i am, i feel strange closing my eyes,
“please let it be okay” echoing in my head every time.
but these are not my thoughts.
these are not your thoughts.
they simply are.
he continues belting out notes
and i breathe without rhythm.
my lungs are tone deaf.
i get goosebumps on my hairless limbs for a second.
applause resounds, it's a live recording of the song.
short pause, next.
piano picks up pace
and the mellow voice of a different man
of the same tongue fills the room.
a little more lively.
i realize it's not the words you need
to understand what he means.
Jul 2016 · 957
Maybe
Sasha Ranganath Jul 2016
i want to
just lay without saying a word
no noise, no disturbances
just you, me and our thoughts running wild.
i want us to lay inside and
be each other's safe place
when the world is drowning.
you talk so greatly of things trivial to me
you don't stop to listen to what my mind speaks
im not complaining; i love your voice and articulation
but it would be nice if you gave me a chance to at least whisper.
true, im not the most interesting person
and i have obscure thought processes
and it's boring to be verbal about it
but i just get lost when you ramble on and on
and i can't fit the pieces together a lot of the time.
i'm sure you don't realize that i feel this way
and i'm far too apprehensive to tell you.
my head is a battleground between feeling unwanted
and reassuring myself that i'm just delusional.
i like to think i'm important to you
but i being my insecure self, almost never believe it.
i sound like such a sad sack
and i won't deny that i need constant reassurance
but rather than the world consoling me all the time,
it would be nice if only you, just you,
gave me the time and opportunity
to talk for once.
i adore you. and i know you don't feel the same way about me; i can't even persuade you.
but just let me tell you about myself sometimes, maybe you'll feel differently.
maybe.
sorry.
May 2016 · 597
ensemble
Sasha Ranganath May 2016
i need my inspiration again
where is my salvation
i can't find the chaos
i can't stand the silence
is this hide and seek
or am i blind
is this a child's play
or am i too kind
savage thoughts
with no actions
disoriented mind
or minds
maybe i have 3
or none at all
is conscience real
or is it a delusion for which
we all fall
are memories real
what i wrote yesterday
does it mean the same now?
what i do today
will i remember tomorrow?
it's chaos
chaos alright
but not the chaos i once knew
no this is not it
im going insane in quest
ugly old ensemble
throw at me yourself
blanket me
consume me
this clarity is clouding up
and you're the only way out.
Apr 2016 · 885
antidote
Sasha Ranganath Apr 2016
antidote, antidote
where are you
my body will lay
lifeless
without you
someone injected
venom into my blood
and i can't
seem to find you.
antidote, antidote
save me
i don't know where
else to look
for you.
i've searched under
beds and
over closets;
inside barrels
and scoured the
city through.
please tell me,
drop a hint
i'm dying.
i've rummaged
through everything
in front of me.
i can't see you wherever.
antidote, antidote
could you by
any chance
be my killer?
Oct 2015 · 2.2k
contrast
Sasha Ranganath Oct 2015
the spawn
of a saint
is often
a sinner.
Oct 2015 · 458
open stitches
Sasha Ranganath Oct 2015
you ran your tender nails
over all my scars.
but then i looked down
and there was
blood
**e v e r y w h e r e
Oct 2015 · 404
blind
Sasha Ranganath Oct 2015
you caressed my eyes
and brushed through my lashes.
i was so indulged in
your touch- so soft,
i only realize now:
my sight is gone.
Oct 2015 · 667
my petals are gone
Sasha Ranganath Oct 2015
you called me a flower
and i thought you were a liar.
but now i'm bleeding
from the pores.
the truth is what you told.
Oct 2015 · 461
for you
Sasha Ranganath Oct 2015
and i'll wait for you
I'll wait
till my teeth fall out
and skin rots.
it's no trouble, dear rose
for my heart
is eternally comatose.
Oct 2015 · 474
blend
Sasha Ranganath Oct 2015
your silver hair
touched my gold skin
then you decided
platinum matched you better.
Oct 2015 · 467
deceive
Sasha Ranganath Oct 2015
the ocean looks so thick
in HDR
but it's deep all the same
once you're in too far.
Oct 2015 · 396
immobile
Sasha Ranganath Oct 2015
you etched your name
down to my bones.
and now my limbs
are falling off.
it doesn't hurt though.
i just wish i could hold you.
but i'm just meat
wearing bloodstained clothes.
Oct 2015 · 455
intoxicated
Sasha Ranganath Oct 2015
you thought drunken hickeys
were for losers.
so you gave me sober bruises
now are we lovers?
Oct 2015 · 479
platonic
Sasha Ranganath Oct 2015
it's not love
i don't even like you
it's just
sometimes
i want to hold you
and never let go.
Oct 2015 · 439
it wasn't
Sasha Ranganath Oct 2015
you bled over my eyes,
blinding me with red.
i mistook it for love
now im alone in this bed.
Oct 2015 · 688
wounds
Sasha Ranganath Oct 2015
you traced over my skin
and i was so caught up
in trying to understand
the patterns you made
that i didn't realize
the gashes you left.
Oct 2015 · 578
sore throat
Sasha Ranganath Oct 2015
and i sip you up quickly
you make me flinch
you run over my tongue
and into my throat
you taste bitter
you sting me
i gulp anyway
you're my only medicine.
Sep 2015 · 1.0k
We Are Not Criminals
Sasha Ranganath Sep 2015
Apparently we belong to
The "minority"
Some kind of "riotry".
Because we love someone of the same gender
Or perhaps we're not cisgender.
Suddenly loving is a crime
Harmless expression of what's within- is the biggest blunder there ever could be.
Heart's content is criticised.

They brand us names,
FREAKS! DISGRACE! OUTLAWS!
Make mockery out of innocence
Demean our mere existence.
They want "normal"?
Then maybe it's themselves who are the problem.
They want us to hide and blend in,
Go back into this "closet" we "came out" of?
(Ha, good luck with that)

They think we're alone
But we are not.
There's one love 
In all our hearts,
Beating together
Creating art.
We show the world
Consented love needs no apology
Expression needs no **** apology!

So much cruelty
So much hate.
But, you know what?
We can't back down
And be another statistical figure.

Take pride in loving each other
Take pride in being true to yourself.
Pay no heed to those who say otherwise,
Take a stand, you glorious beast.
All in all, we come in peace.
Sep 2015 · 387
Black
Sasha Ranganath Sep 2015
In the darkness, everything comes alive.
Words begin to take shapely forms, distortion comes into play and our minds are syncopating to every detail.
Stare long enough into the darkness and you'll see unsightly guises prancing around. Take one step closer, if you dare; close your eyes and at once, G  L  A  R  E  .  Jolts of terror scream through your skin making it crawl. Your thoughts run wild as ever, showing you what you truly fear. You're desperate to escape.
You close your eyes and fall asleep. Gradually you drift away and REM kicks in. You're in the state of dreaming. It's all a make-believe land hereafter. The strangest things in reality suddenly make sense in the darkness. It seems like eternity in your head, with flashes and unsynchronised movements.
It's an unending vortex of warped confusion. Deranged thoughts arise, twisting your world into a mangled mess. It's just an abyss of hollowness now.
**In the dark, nothing is at rest.
Sep 2015 · 645
Chaos
Sasha Ranganath Sep 2015
Everything is quiet
Except a faint whisper.
The subtlety violent
Naivety starts to wither.

Everything is calm
Except a growing laughter.
They mean trip and fall
But say, "Live long and prosper."

Hypocrisy stinging every corner
My voice is aching to scream.
I think, "Don't bother"
But I'm already far too deep.
Aug 2015 · 657
What
Sasha Ranganath Aug 2015
And I shiver as I light my cigarette,
The tip turns flaming red.
Taking a breath of death,
My mind is a mess.

There's no one to shake hands with,
No one to share the filth.
I'm a flower that wilts
With no one to notice.

My throat burns,
But it suffocates the hurt.
For what it's worth,
This plight works.

I need to go someplace,
A run-down alley; if safe.
In my home I feel away,
I'm asleep, I want to be awake.

So much interruption,
A lost connection.
Endless noise, I can't function
A frustrated concoction.

The cigarette has burned out,
A bitter taste in my mouth.
This is a silent shout,
My head is distraught.

I hate this place that I live in,
It's so confusing.
I'm breathing, my heart's beating,
But there's simply no meaning.
May 2015 · 853
The Dead Youth
Sasha Ranganath May 2015
Dark, moonless nights,
No stars, no light.
Sleepless for a fortnight,
Constantly losing the fight.
Only shadows in sight,
Nothing shines bright.

"It will go away soon"
That's what they always say too.
But tell me do they ever lay strewn,
Out of Gods to pray to?
Do they ever feel consumed
By demons that chase doom?

Tired lungs and broken ribs,
Breathing all the past right in.
The devil holding on so grim,
Regurgitating memories within.
Detached heart strings,
Too used to the sting.

Crevasses and milestones,
Every crater- an achieved goal.
Lonely and alone,
Another youngster torn.
Placing the headstone,
Uncared for, forlorn.
May 2015 · 504
Girl By The Sunset
Sasha Ranganath May 2015
She sits on concrete
Turning her head
Facing the setting star
The sky is turning red.

A silent expression
No cringe no smile
Just peace
No sunken lie.

Glory glory
Her skin radiates
The girl by the sunset
With waves in her hair.
May 2015 · 733
Hills and Highways
Sasha Ranganath May 2015
Crazy in this city I tell ya
Wild girls and hungry fellas
Insanity in the non binary.

From sunrise to sunrise
Living half truths and full lies
Breaking through the mahogany.

Laughter and rants
Dresses and pants
No one makes a fuss.

Born and raised in the urban
Soaking now in bourbon
Love is blind.

No labels
Except on bottles
Driving through the dark.

The rebels are glitter
We don't contest to be prettier
The world is not black and white.

Escaping into hills and highways
We've got days
Life is brilliant.
Feb 2015 · 1.0k
On A Compassionate Hunt
Sasha Ranganath Feb 2015
I love her so ardently
I take pride in holding her hand
And taking her in a tender embrace,
Feeling the warmth of her strong, fragile body
Full of broken pieces and bandaged scars,
An emptiness that fills my heart with compassion
And rids it of guilt because I know
She isn't going anywhere and neither am I.

Even after death tries to do us apart,
We will be buried side by side or
Have our ashes scattered in close proximity because,
Oh lord, I cannot dream of ever being apart,
Alive or lifeless.

She resides in a special garden
With shattered walls;
She smiles through the cracks
And giggles with her little mouth,
Tossing her hair perfectly as she does,
Making me fall harder and deeper
For her, with her...

Never will I let a tear of sorrow trickle down her face,
Never will I let her try to end this life full of strength.
I will forever be there when she calls,
And when she doesn't,
Just to communicate in silence
Letting the rhythm of our simultaneous hearts do the talking.

If we are war criminals, so be it,
For we shall wear our battle scars with pride,
Allowing no one to diminish what we have-
This reaction called L-O-V-E.

I shall live to make her smile,
And die holding her hands, yet smiling.
I will search for the queen of my dreams
For however long.*
*And I will love her ever so deeply,
The deepest love she will ever know.
Jan 2015 · 936
Struggling Makeover
Sasha Ranganath Jan 2015
I don't feel a darkness creeping on to me,
I don't feel my demons.
I don't feel tears on my face,
I don't want to leave.

I don't feel numb,
I don't feel like screaming.
I don't feel like bleeding,
I don't want to succumb.

When there's no negativity in me anymore,
The paper and pen lie alone.
When I've begun seeing good colours,
There's no more of me forlorn.

I used to write five or six poems a day,
Now I write one in five or six weeks.
In the night, I don't lie awake
To craft ink and silently weep.

I wish I could pen down happiness,
The way I could with emptiness.
I've tried to do so a number of times
But that's just not me, no vibes.
Sasha Ranganath Jan 2015
Won't care if I'm shot for being your shield,
Because you're the one I really need.

Won't cry if I'm stabbed for holding your hand,
Because you're the one who helped me stand.

Won't be afraid if I'm lashed for being there for you,
Because you showed me how love felt-* *true.
Jan 2015 · 554
Rebound Attempts
Sasha Ranganath Jan 2015
I shouted out a prayer for you,
A prayer for your eyes to stay damp
But for your tears never to trickle.

I sent out a cry for you,
A cry for your heart to stay fixed
And never to break.

I tried wishing upon a star for you,
A star to illuminate your path
And guide you to your destiny.

I wrote down a song for you,
A song for your imperfect perfections
But for my voice never to sing it.

The prayer,
The cry,
The wish,
The song...
Hit the sky
And fell back down.

Now you'll have to stay here and say grace,
Yet never again in my embrace.
Jan 2015 · 524
Manner and Reason
Sasha Ranganath Jan 2015
what i like about the living
is that they respond to
hello and goodbye.

what i don't always understand about them
is how and why.
Sasha Ranganath Jan 2015
no god to save us,
no angel to descend from above.
no hymn or prayer,
no superior to call Greater.
humanity is the only faith I believe in,
no heaven or hell to decide sin.
Jan 2015 · 346
Cold
Sasha Ranganath Jan 2015
"Just pull the trigger!" I screamed,
For he means to me more than it seems.
Jan 2015 · 638
Quiver
Sasha Ranganath Jan 2015
Life is like a caterpillar's metamorphosis into a butterfly.

As the caterpillar weaves it's cocoon, it just knows it's a part of its life to do so. No questions asked.

As we build our walls up with time, we just know it's a part of our lives to do so. No questions asked.

The caterpillar stays in for many, many days, not knowing what awaits it when it finally breaks free.

We stay behind the walls for a long, long time, not knowing what awaits us when we finally tear them down.

The caterpillar patiently waits for it's time to come. And when it does, it realises what freedom it has attained after all the time it spent in the darkness.

We wait for a long time, but sometimes we feel like we can't wait any longer and just want to end the darkness. We feel claustrophobic in there.

When claustrophobia hits, don't be afraid to let out a tiny little cry, just loud enough for someone passing by to hear. Use all your strength that's been piling up inside you. Someone that truly cares about the little details, is going to have a second look and find the place that the sound is coming from. They won't tear down your walls, instead they'll find a little escape hole and crawl in to help you tear them down yourself.

But sometimes it so happens, that the caterpillar just doesn't emerge and the cocoon is still as ever. No matter for how long you wait, it just doesn't break through.

If you see that happening, just make it a point to let every other caterpillar you know, that it's okay to let out a little cry when suffocation approaches. Tell them they don't have to be afraid.

Tell them you'll always find a way to help them tear down their walls<3
Dec 2014 · 427
To Find My Only Love
Sasha Ranganath Dec 2014
What happened to the days
I found poetry in a thread on a dress?
What happened to the days
I found poetry in a strand on a head?

The days I had the most extravagant words
To use as my armour and weapons?
The days I had a beautiful, flowing rhyme
To use as the glamour and .......?

Have I lost my train of thought?
Or have I stopped looking for it?
Have I finally succumbed to the cost
Which states to find poetry in every twist?

Every twist of every braid,
Every list of every maid.
Every hill growing up,
Every second of broken trust.

I must go on a conquest to retrieve my possession
Of thirst for finding poetry in even the slightest dust on a table top.
To live my life again, I have made this decision;
And for you to adhere to it is my humble requisition.
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