You see the man first
Your head above your plate,
The fork and the spoon
In your hands.
You skipped the prayer of thanks,
Or to even pause a second
To see what you had been served,
Even before the server could leave
You had your first bite through
And you could not tell how it tastes.
"You were to escape"
You used to say,
"Escape what" now you question.
Silence flows through you like blood
Must have on that man's face,
If you were courageous enough
You could have counted the slaps
That man had placed.
Instead you paused and stared
Too many answers in you mind
On how there were no words
But you skipped the right question.
You heard the fire,
You heard the structure falling
And you saw the crowd gathering.
There was so much you should do
So little you could
But you skipped your rule
And sat there the way through.
Years of rebellion
And years of righteousness
Washed in that moment of cowardice.
You sat there all
Just staring and answering
The questions you couldn't ask.

Do you remember what you suggested?
You suggested to walk away
To make the man realize his wrong ways
But silly you,
Why are you so much of a coward ,
I doubt
It was simply you running away.
For the thought you skipped to act
Was walking to the man
And holding back his fist
But you so had it all skipped.
You sat there,
A silent prayer running through your mind
Couldn't you tell,
You are no help to the world,
What were you doing there?

And so here you are
The sad, pitiful part
You worried about not having answers,
Silly you,
Now you pace
With answers alone
You decided to skip the questions.

Answer-
You can either comment on the fire
Or ignore the smoke all together
But you do nothing
To douse the flames
You skipped the

They had the wall finished now
And added a few colored yarn in the front,
And they appear so out of place
With those grey bricks behind
And yet so beautiful
When I noticed them after
Almost missing out the hills this time.
There seems to be a new star added on to the sky
Which I couldn't count back in the city
I now survive.
And the moon is appearing so yellow tonight
As if to mock me
That in my absence
Nothing has remained the same,
And I plan to come back,
But come back to what?
And only the nights are used
To occupy your room,
The rest of the day,
You are learning the changes,
The added vase here,
The broken sink there,
The table that was brought just before you left,
And you wonder why in your memories
It still hasn't taken its place.
Downstairs, next to your door,
The two rooms now broken and open
That earlier housed a kid
Who moved and is now too grown for you to talk to,
You were never good with adults,
Kids, well kids could be smiled to,
Eyes widened, and mouth hung in an O
And you were good to go.
But now they demand words
And you would rather speak silences
As you recall the times you were not this old,
And you plan to come back,
But come back to what?
The water now here tastes funny
And you are almost shocked
At the face you end up making,
And I hate myself a little
With every gulp I end up taking.
So you wonder if
The whole city's water has changed,
And the sun, is the sun now fiercer?
So you go out
And stand in the sun,
To somehow burn the feelings back
And then you see
An old lady staring at you,
She is new here,
Wondering what you might be like
The way you would have wondered
If you were here when she moved,
Does she like you,
Plan to come back,
But come back to what?
So I ignore my friends,
Ignore the routes I frequented.
And if I happen to pass my high school,
I now look away,
Its funny when I realize,
When I can't even remember the houses
Next to my middle school, o' yes
Everything has changed,
The people in the houses too.
And I plan to come back,
But come back to what?
So I guess, once you leave home
There is not much to look back to,
Nowhere to permanently belong to,
You simply move from city to city
In a hope to feel at home,
But all you get is a longing,
A memory to compare to
With all that you are missing,
That you once had,
And every little discomfort mocks you
There is nothing to go back to,
Not even your home.

Don't come back...

People have butterflies  
In their stomach they say, 
When something tickles their heart away. 
They say something dances in there, 
That something gets them all red . 
That is how they know  
When something is good for their heart, 
The butterflies, I suppose is a sign of love 
-captured in their heart, 
Making their way around, 
The butterflies dances to someone else's songs 
And the world they live in  
Gets brighter. 
 
People say  
They have butterflies  
In their stomach, 
When someone tickles their heart 
But all I feel is a burn 
As if acid churns up my soul. 
It rises in my guts to my heart  
Perhaps to burn the love  
Or the fingers perhaps that tickles it, 
Perhaps because  
the butterflies in my stomach 
are dead! 
In others they remain dormant  
In mine they just died for living too long  
In hope but no fingers to carve their world. 
Maybe they died in their pupas 
Suffocated by all the strangling hands, 
Or maybe they flew away  
In search of someone in the past. 
But the acid I feel 
Is their ashes still ablaze, 
I guess that is what is most probable 
That they died long ago,
Been stuck there for too long 
Held hostage by my fear 
And burnt by the matches
People unknowingly rubbed along. 
And so every time something, 
Every time you tickle my heart, 
I guess it is good for it, 
Fire burns in my stomach, 
Rises up my guts  
And I run to throw up, 
To throw it all away. 
I don't think I am made to tickle. 
I have fire in my heart, 
It burns everything away  
And I have carcasses of wings to clean up!

I want a room with a window,
White walls of the sun,
And a floor from the trees,
A hole for the stars to be seen.
I want a curtain across the door
The door far from the window,
A bed inches from the floor
Where I sprawl across
Just next to my bookcase,
A few pillows on the ground,
A soft rug below.
And the sun will burn through every morning
But only to burn the night cold,
And when it rains
It patters my home
And I see it roll from
The first drop of birth
To its journey of tiny rivers across.
And when I have much to think
And none to speak to,
I will watch the moon dance
With the clouds of disguise,
And I will watch and watch
Until sleep lulls me by.
I can picture it all so well,
So vivid, so detailed,
Almost feeling the heat of the sun,
Hear the sound of the rain,
The memories of the stars,
But here I am,
Sitting and sitting
Knowing what I want
But having no clue
How to get it, to get there.
I wanna make a home
A place of my own,
But here I am
And I can't go.