The smoke licks my fingertips
as I light the cigar
a fix of nicotine on a bad day
a way to keep the bad thoughts at bay
A long pull fills my mouth
with a bitter taste of artificial grape
A low for me I guess you could call it
A hypocrite I guess you could call me

i am a hypocrite

for a long time i wanted that word tattooed
somewhere on my body and i still do,
i think.

i cherish my ability to value the
wellbeing of others above my own…
that’s not why i do it
but that’s how it seems, isn’t it?

doesn’t my own lack of motivation
seem so **** selfless?

hypocrites only run into trouble
when they make it obvious.
for some reason, not heading your
own advice makes people very
upset with you.

i do it because
when the fall leaves break
off the trees and there’s
crimson on the sidewalk,
crimson dripping from the palms
of our hands…

well, the winner would be
whoever threw the first punch.

The reason I don't like you,
let me put it into words.
You're a prat, a drain and a hypocrite,
a ****** characterless ****.

You talk,  you talk, you ******* talk
But you never say a thing.
You think that you give speeches
Like Dr. Martin Luther King.

But you don't because your boring,
You bore us all to tears.
Ruining every social event,
by banging on for years.

Bla bla ******* bla bla bla,
your monotone drones on.
You're in love with the sound of your own voice,
while we just want you gone.

So pack your **** up in your soapbox,
And turn your answer machine on.
Then ******* back to snoresville,
or wherever the *******'re from.

I
salute people
who knows really well
how to fake feelings
how to fake an act
how to pretend they love us when they aren't
how to pretend that everything is okay while they see us bleeding

O
how I appreciate their souls for being rotten soon

"I ventured out all alone for the first time
Only to find that this world is full of slime"

"To be oneself here is a crime
As the cynics here value only the dime"

"As we are falling into the evil's ravine
I seek the intervention of 'The Holy', The Divine'"


                                           - Aravind

I hear you screaming,
   “THIS IS POISON!”

But you’re still drinking
    From the bottle.

so much to say
feels like there's too much on my plate
i look down to find those I've abandoned
no longer there

this vacancy sits atop of me
scolding my wrongdoings

this plate is as empty as I've let it become
my stomach still crowded
from all the pills that I've swallowed

i know i am the fool of my own ways
telling everyone there's too much
when i can't say i don't feel enough

you know it's a lie

somehow i feel everything
every absence protrudes in my mind
closing the door before i give you a chance to enter
then complain like i do
that i' m always alone

you walk towards me
i run in the other direction
your speed will never match mine
the distance will grow
and you'll probably never know
that i have a love just for you
and i want you to have it
but it's unsafe to enter

i will repeat this pattern
until the inevitable end
my plate will surely be empty
though I won't have to pretend