Something or nothing
What a strange dichotomy

**** your teenage dream, I swear I'm happy in between

Pressure cooker locked around
slowly bearing down
Everything, never what it seems
No one ever see's what I mean

The fat all melts away
Mixed up with productive pain
Villainy is the new currency
For the kids with blood to bleed

Tragedy sells well
And tearing of chunks of soul
bodes well
If you can't tell the difference

Between hell and high water
Drowning to toll the bell
For the next guy
When even the dead inhale

Something or nothing
**** your false dichotomy

No one is happy
Everyone lives between

As gravity is the boundary between the ocean and the shore.

As the eye is the boundary between light and darkness.

As a book is the boundary between religion and the religious.

As ideology is the boundary between the nationalists and the foreigners.

As weapons are the boundaries between the politician and his politics.

So these words are the boundary between you and I.

I can't deny the allure of stability.

A red-brick house with a front porch and wooden pickets,
A mango tree with summer-drooping branches,
A spice garden in pitchers and pots.
The long corridor that runs to the living room,
The stairs lead up to the worldly roof.
Chiming winds curl the curtains on the windows,
Darkness recedes from south to north.
Where Your steps will echo in the rhythm of rain,
And where I'll be, drenched in your scent,
Reciting Tagore.

Ah!
What a life it'll be!
You, me and eternity.

I want it all and I want the road,
Sunsets, gasoline and upcoming bends.
My greed has never known bounds,
My hubris to get to you and get away.

It absolutely amazes me,
the dichotomy of how
you can make me feel so special and
unique
and simultaneously
leave me feeling so desperate and
cheap.

You are the best and the worst,
the source of my greatest joy and
deepest sorrow,
and I am sick in my desire to
not feel these extremes;
I am sick in my desire to
not
feel
anything.

It's time
to get off
this ride.

The power of my spoken word
Is little if they're left unheard
And if thet stay inside my head
They might as well be words unsaid

There is a dog called morality,
Beaten, as he is, on his path,
For his master is another thing,
A thing, that defies, all math…