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Sid Jun 2018
I notice the way
lovers linger at each other
for two seconds longer
and how
you mumble along to that tune
escaping from your right earbud.
The gallery cafe holds
artists in a room full of art
and I feel as if I'm
interrupting something
I'd frozen that expression
portrayed by his features-
glowing when she'd
waltzed in;
tucked it into my bursting pocket as another stolen moment
and I think
is a funny thing.
yet experienced
and I wonder why he
had eyes for her
and how long they'd last
or how he'd chosen
that particular song;
lyrics involuntarily memorized
for what other reason than fondness;
or how after knowing someone for longer than your memory can recall
that the creases in their index finger
is as familiar as the back of your hand;
so can all these emotions
overflowing with
serotonin and
dopamine and
be classified as love?
I think it can.

// Is this a milestone or ongoing progress? //
Sid Nov 2017
numbers don't define you they scream
stitching price tags on my limbs like what I have to offer is paper based?
so tell me really,
how much does a soul cost?
telling me not to worry;
do what you do best
but what if cold sweating
is the only thing I'm good at-
escaping whatever fire you passed down from centuries ago
only to
do it
all again.

// the elephant in the room isn't me //
throw those numbers in the fire; watch them burn, watch them burn
  Oct 2017 Sid
oh better not say that
mind of hell
tongue of heaven
better not think depraved
veiled demon, licking ******* for car payments
God watches

what will people think

am i good person
birthday face
shut eyed stiff
not dangerous, like a gun in the face

did i say the right thing,
cypher of morality
the knot of good, a slow strangle
a frightened worm
wont risk tears

here come the scissors

technology brains wired like weaponized monkeys
eater of crumbs
heatless heart ransomed for the ******* rent

can i evaporate
like a dead cat in a black box
better then tripping all over my self

strings attached with hooks
on shunted limbs
a relic of modernism,
office life

talking scapegoats hissing
always haunted by what's missing

guts spilling through clutched fingers
apologizing to a faceless crowd of sea shells
and bagged heads

minds like the small screens
sitting all day

frenetic fingers and burning eyes
exhaling only

there's a part of me thats been crying since birth

be careful
what you do
in the land of the free and the brave
  Oct 2017 Sid
You wrapped me up in crazy
And  stayed for quite a while
You tucked me into bedlam
And I slept on your beguile

The comfort was in knowing that
Your thoughts they made no sense
And I could not tell if we were present
or past tense

It was a sleepy fantasy
where it really didn't matter
If your thoughts transmitted energy
Or your brainwaves were ashatter

The chemistry I felt for you
Was such a mad desire
We could have burned out together
In an everlasting fire

As I curled around your sanity
And flirted with your brain  
For a while I was so happy
In the nightmare called insane
Sid Oct 2017
I'd never have to understand that we were born into equal sized roadways-
another unwritten rule suspended in the air
amongst the somewhat unnecessary details we'd 'forgotten'
to mention over the past few years.
But that was okay right?
I mean you'd found your direction
and accelerated ahead of me;
thinking you'd see the world differently from there?
Sure, your perspective involved hues that I was blind to but
I'd found this gem within the shadows of all these cars
(Shh! Don't let them know you're catching up!
This highway was ruled by colours,
not words.)
You just couldn't stay within your own lane-
oblivion muddled with reality
blurred my blindspot
so I advise you to swerve out of my way
unless you want to get hit
(accidentally on purpose.)
You'd always remark that I could handle the wheel,
ever so sweetly,
but this
is what you implied?
I knew it was all too much,
trying to balance everything
(Shh! My plate was too full,
each nutriment colliding with another-
the chocolate syrup painted ice cream
enveloped half my dish,
intruding the space against her wish.)
You always seemed to have the cleanest looking plate,
however you continuously allowed me to spill over
onto the rim of your
pristine porcelain, as if
you enjoyed
watching me overflow,
You never did anything about it,
never cleaned the dishes,
simply watching as various delicacies drew fantasies
of you.
Though those weren't even
to my fantasies.
You dream of candy floss nests and gumdrop buttons
whereas I dream of freshly cut watermelons and berries
(please do the dishes
or leave.)

// riding shotgun was the sweetest thing
you said we'd done
right before I floored the brake
and more than sugar
went flying out the window. //
stay in your own lane.
Sid Oct 2017
Always calling me sweet
as if my name somehow tastes pleasant
when you attempt to form sentences powdered with more
than me?
Listen up honey,
you're well aware of the outcome of this prolonged sugar
so swallow your
treacle words
(unless toothaches are your thing.)

// if anything, i'm
bittersweet //
  Oct 2017 Sid
Ayesha Chaudhary
With open minds and eager eyes,
We think naïve thoughts
And read cliché quotes.

But our thoughts are troubled
With damaged dreams,
And heavy hearts.

Nothing seems demeaning.
Everything looks sensualising.
Yet, only a few of us are dominating.
Those familiar hallways mean more than you think.

They say we don’t know real pain,
That our life is merely a game.

We are teenagers.
Our game is complex and cruel.
They wouldn’t stand a chance.
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