true love
if lost,
becomes a story
written by those,
who are afraid of the ending.

stories of these kinds
always give restless nights
to the writers
till the end of their
weak lives.

so if you are writing one now,
write true and bravely
or never write at all.

a speck of cosmic dust
or a tiny dot
in the blackened emptiness
full of mystical voids

life has flourished here
even in the savagery and butchery
of flesh,minds and even souls
all in the lands floating in blue

yet we are not terrified
or stupefied of our existence
neither grateful nor pity
for this spectacle

or maybe the light
is at the end of the tunnel
and me walking in opposite
or worse running blind.

She came like a tornado
uncontrollable,
untameable
and took me to places
I never thought would exist,

only to leave me there
with blurred memories
and with whatever she left
of me.

Just once let the reflections
in the mirror
live and speak
curse and cry
laugh and go complete mad

for I am sure
they are dying to do so
since we started hiding
from ourselves
long ago

forget the followers,
forget the other **** writers,
forget the counts of accolades
forget the defeats of your writings,
forget this night as heavy drunk blur

listen to rhymes of your keyboard
and see the world and it's travesty,
see the lives falling apart,
see the births wailing to life
see the rain,the women,
the racers who share a drink with death
everyday,
the lost lovers,the mad houses
the wars,the sufferings
the beauty of light of first day
and spit it over, use your blood as ink if needed
and be immortal this life
and don't stop till you do.

sea’s clandestine love-
this calling, so desperate
yes, step now slowly

for the somber hues-
and an unforgiving storm :
seek abyss within.