Liquid courage to numb the pain.
Intoxicated to forget.
Offbeat blood, sent from heart to vein.
Returns with a guest, she just met.


She closes up, leaves the bar clean.
To her apartment, around three.
In bed she lays, counting some sheep,
That mock her, thinking she will sleep.
She hears the crickets’ lonely beat.
Reminding her of creeps she meets.
Sometimes they have a potential start.
But never truly go that far.


Each night dealt with some other cards.
But slowly starts to build up guard.
She puts less time in her makeup.
But drunks continue to pick up.
She joins in shots, hopes to pass out.
But in her head she hears the shouts.
Her heart’s hunger for real love.
Her clouded thoughts rise above.


A newly turned insomniac.
No longer sleeping on her back.
Till curtains peek with starry eyes.
So bright, leaves a forceful rise.
Her sobs like strings of violin.
A void no liquor can fill in.
Despite how much she tries to drown.
The aches resonate with shrill sounds.


Another night, still found no one.
A man enters, two drinks and done.
She questions him, “What is the rush?”
Always pulled into a quick crush.
But never really tends to last.
As he mumbles about his past.
A bartender, like therapist.
As alcohol reveals the gist.


Now drunk and loud, he starts to shout.
Before his crash, he raises doubt.
He talks about, the best he lost.
Always at home, waits for the toss.
She cheers him up, when in a rut.
He gets up again, “That **** mutt!
To see her hurt, curled up in bed.
I held her paw, up till her death.”


The next night, slept pretty early.
He was perfect, brown hair curly.
Her eyes were lost, but not with lust.
Enjoyed his smells, delicious must.
A piece of her, became a part.
Happy to save his sinking heart.
Rescued him, he slept on her rug.
Named Milo, her three-legged dog.

The cracking of your bones,
sounds you hear when you crouch.
Trying to protect yourself from whom?
Your spine can bend
and extend
no further, protruding out
ready to snap, you twist and you moan and you groan
when will this stop?


You feel as frail as a bird
One that has fallen after its very first flight


The cracks are what you hear
when hope is lost.
You feel like your weakening will
can weaken
no further.


stop
just stop.


Listen here
Don’t listen to yourself breaking
Don’t slip through these cracks
Standing up is now your cause
Hope is not lost
So sit up and straighten your back


The more you crouch, the more it hurts
That corner you’re attached to is not your solace
or quiet place
you crouch there, only in the cold embrace
of your crumpled shirt


Corners don’t shelter you from your fears;
they cage you in with them.
They widen and stretch the cracks on your skin
Allowing pain and judgement to seep in
Cracks are gateways letting the water in…
Water that dampens your flame, your fire
and Hope
a precious thing


You’re hidden yet left wide open
Stuck in purgatory
This liminal hell
You hear the tolling of your own death knell


Are these cracks the
pain before your rebirth
the shedding and flaking
of your skin
which will leave you behind, a rejuvenated being?


You decide if these cracks will only exist
as a reminiscence of the passing pains
or will your thoughts dictate
that these cracks originate
from the epicentre of who you are?


Will you let this cancer-like spreading of the cracks continue?
Or will you stand up and straighten your back
To close up the cracks
and save you from You

I am awake

alive. aware. tired... but, so awake
ready. content? drained... but, ready.
ready for what's next.



soak.

soak while enveloped in His cloak of soundness, of serenity inconspicuously emerging from the crossfire



come to an understanding

a consensus with Yourself



stay.

stay here... in this fractured moment of freedom, of belonging, of peace

A breakthrough.

Gasp for Air before descending back into perplexity.



know

know the Answer

Believe in the Answer to all those unanswered, unanswerable questions

Love the Answer

Thank the Answer


Breathe


आप पूरी तरह से ठीक हैं
आप ठीक हो जाएंगे
आप ठीक होना पड़ेगा

अच्छा?

हाँ.