tv shows on mute,
mouths moving but making no assertions.
a silence that doesn’t satisfy
slipping over the air like margarine.
loneliness in stillness
The feeling before you cry
but no tears are produced,
like a dial tone
with no intention of an outgoing call.
serenity’s evil twin,
a vibrant color muted with white.
no longer deep or dark,
just with the volume turned down,
apathetically pastel.

i've been through nuclear winter
wishing to vanish, believe me -
wanting to let it consume me -
and no one suspected a thing

i've stifled every bone tremor
and denied every visitor
for nothing. a slow kind of death
with lucky days sewn into it

fragments of time are dissolving
every hour inside my head
leaving only outlines in dust
leaving all the damages done

the evil's been born already
across cold water, luminous
all of its wounds on the surface
all of its scars in their glory

Lost in confusing feelings
A heart not knowing is a heart that can't see clearly
All desires of the dangerous
Blinded by love, crisp hatred and faith.
Launched in agony,
Apathy encompassing creativity
Glow under the canopy of the great.

From shattered bits of mirrors
and mirroring hearts made of steel,
Gold white plain's
Recomposing the one that I am,
The essence away with the one wholeheartedly loved...
Duty remains duty,
Love will be love
And hatred will find a reason
If not for the sake of the game then for what?

Assumed life,
Assumed reasons to carry on with
Until the hearts melt away,
Feelings storming with no option to make you pay
For their hunger,
Active in their wait for your decline,
Sick, tired and paced with your light feat
You disappear in the haze of vapours
Caused by luxurious rain.

The Banyan tree is dying, the little boy exclaimed

Who would believe him though?
It was not just a tree but a legacy,
A witness of generations.

The Banyan tree is dying, the farmer complained

Many a hot afternoon
He had sought its shade
What an inconvenience.

The Banyan tree is dying, the priests shouted

The holy site had led to
Many days of profit
And few days of satisfaction

The Banyan tree is dying, no one did anything

Time withered its branches
Termites ate away the roots
And the trunk fell like a giant.

The Banyan tree is falling, the workers cried.

Work to be done
Land to be cleared
Nobody cares.

I am kind of this perpetually tired
Sack of flour
I’ve been staring at the walls for hours
All I am full of is nothing
And it sounds pretty dramatic
But when i’m fulfilled, there’s no room for sadness
There’s no madness
I feel fine (if fine is the absence of anything)
I feel tired
All the time
I’m never sure what to make of times like these
Am I crashing from the caffeine?
This lack of feeling turns me into darkness
I couldn’t face another human being right now
I’d be exhausted
Apathy is the thing i’m avoiding everyday and every night
Since I learned how to write
Apathy is a man’s plight
Apathy is where they go at night
When you leave me here
I can’t articulate
What I want you to hear
Just know on some days I would **** to care
I’d love to feel
I want us all to be there
A red hot drum beat
A bleeding snare
I’ll touch you where you’ll feel it
Here are our tears -- which one of us means it?
I hadn’t cried in months but
You still haven’t opened me up as much
As I desperately want
I’m signing off
My resignation might make you soft

Apathy is ruling me
Yours and mine just intertwined
Apathy won’t let me
Wrap my hands around your spine
Or see my reflection in your eyes.

I realized something.
Tenderness gets you nowhere in the face of apathy.
Apathy is ruling us.
It is ruling me in my heart and in its grotesque reflections.
I cower at it and forget myself and whimper and say all the wrong things.
Hateful things, as my heart is on fire.
There is an anger in me, a blood red rage and then there is calm, cool, unaffected apathy.
It does not rear its head like the bull of my anger, but sinks like a stone.
Makes cool my bones.
I would rather spit fire, I’d rather let it wreck my lungs.
I wish I could scream it out or fight it out or **** it out or maybe just forget it exists.
But it remains frozen ice throughout me that weighs me to the ground.
The magnet that pulls me down down down.
Maybe this is the doomed, inevitable thing I’m feeling, the fear that my apathy will never melt away.
That I’ll never see the brighter days.
The stars in me keep choosing the wrong things and i’m lost in a galaxy of apathy.
Tenderness would melt me.

A case for apathy-- maybe I would get some sleep.