Collaterally damaged.
I took damage to my system.

Using the grit of my finger nails to claw myself into a stable position.
Observing the impact through my palms.

My hands discolored—not bleach.
Discolored.

A damaged nervous system, navigating it like the amazon.
The goals I went to and from are all forgotten because of my accidental backpedaling.

Riding a bike backwards is inferior.
Only going farther away from your destination and all the way back to your shelter.

With all these task in hand…
The success ladder a loopy event.
Like climbing Jacobs Ladder but without the visions of angels and streams of light.

I should keep silent more often—
today, yesterday,
and every day.

I feel useless.
I’m good for nothing.
Oh yes—
for cooking,
washing clothes,
ironing them afterward,
cleaning the house.
Yes, very useful indeed.

The problem is—
I made so many plans.
Ah, the plans!
The joy and the uncertainty of man.
The goals achieved
at the end of the journey.

Where are mine?
Gone,
long ago.

I wish I could tell you
about all my victories.
I’m sorry—
the ones I have
hold no value for me.

What I do have
are debts,
endless fatigue,
and the perpetual feeling
that I am a failure.

Yet silence,
before my failure,
brings light to my mind—
inspiration,
poetry.

I think I’ve learned
not to throw myself
back into the well I climbed out of.
And yet,
I lean over the edge,
staring down,
as if searching for something.

But there’s nothing there.
It seems the plans
I make for myself—
I throw them all down there,
as if burying them
in a grave—
my grave, once.

And now?
Another day passes.
I have made nothing
of myself.

i'm a lost soul,
ash for pieces,
stranded
with failures
that pray
in quiet memories,
to be remembered.

Failures are weird things: They don't feel great but they are great!

The volleyball player is a greedy being
Constantly striving for more, never satisfied

We will melt our wax wings off
If it means we get a chance to fly

Falling from that burning sky, no one can reach us
When we’re up that high
and when the ocean floor touches our heads
We’re too far gone, not victors yet

A drowning, suffocating feeling, until you suddenly
Learn to breathe
And you will keep those wax wings on, even if
It means sinking to the deep

Died once, drowned twice, but got back up again
Sewing flight from broken skin
I will grow wings, no matter how
Take my dead skin, can’t reach me now

I decide to conquer the maze
A labyrinth sprawled ahead of me
LEFT
I run around brisk corners
hope sleeping out my heart
RIGHT
my stride is strong and fast
my hair blowing in the wind
RIGHT
but I halt rapidly
the path drawing to an end
I turn around and continue my run
but am faced only by dead ends
is there really any way through
or is this all a hopeless endeavour?

शब्द वापरून वाक्य बनवली जातात,
वाक्य वापरून मनातील भाव मांडले जातात.
एकेकाळी मी ज्यांच्याशी तासंतास बोलायचो,
ते आजकाल फक्त कामासाठी phone करतात.

Priority नाही आहे मी कोणाची,
फक्त एक option म्हणून उरलोय आता.
आयुष्याच्या झाडाची टवटवीत फुलं
कोमेजलेली दिसतात येताजाता.

आजकाल काही share केलं जात नाही,
WhatsApp ग्रुप्सला कधी add केलं जात नाही.
लोक भरपूर आहेत आजूबाजूला –
मित्र तर नाहीत, पण आठवणी उरल्यात काही.

मला मान्य आहे की मी आहे एक failure,
नाही जमल्या मला काही गोष्टी करायला.
आयुष्याच्या या सांडलेल्या कचऱ्याला
मला एकट्यालाच लागेल भरायला.

समुद्रासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी आनंदाची लाट, कधी दुःखाची सर.
रस्त्यासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी अपयशाचा खड्डा, कधी यशाची भर.

आकाशासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी स्वच्छ सोपं, कधी दाट अवघड.
शाळेतल्या वर्गासारखं आहे आयुष्य –
कधी स्मशान शांतता, कधी खूप बडबड.

आयुष्याच्या या तुलनांचा
खूप गहन अभ्यास करावा,
परिस्थितीच्या अटी पाहून मगच
आयुष्याचा फॉर्म भरावा.