how can i have peace of mind,
when i can’t help but feel like there are
missing pieces of my mind?

i gasp for air and realize I’m no longer whole, feeling the winds of regret
through and through.
my lungs feel as weak as the
late November leaves
that are left behind
during the changing of seasons.

i am reminded of the times i gave
the worst people
the best parts of me.
words they didn’t deserve to hear,
skin they didn’t deserve to touch.

i can’t turn back into my old self,
but in its absence,
i felt presence.

recognizing that
i was once just a flame,
but now i want nothing less
than to be a forest fire.

Unseen, unheard, invisible.
Sad, alone, miserable.
Too late I have realised - these are just words.
It is time I break my bounds,
step into shoes that fit,
Thank you to those my world who have lit.
No more scared or scarred,
ready for a new dawn, my positivity unbarred.

I held scissors between my hands yesterday's night,
I cut a heart out of cardboard,
gave it a shower,
tucked it to bed,
sang to it a couple beats
and buried it in my chest.

Life did hit us hard
Life did left us scarred
Life took us this far
Life, give us the power to bear
When you make us the best
Out of what we are
In this brand new year
#HappyNepaleseNewYear2075

it's like Opposite Day
The day when today It-is-not, but
Now the sun is shining and the clouds depart to show that it's smiling

it's like Tomorrowland
the land of the accomplished
where everything I said I'd do is finished and on time and I have no worries of the clock on my mind

it's like the neighbor’s yard
where the Joneses stay
with their better grass and HD TVs

—but it's Sunday night here in the present where I lay on the yoga mat on the cement floor
and try to think of the day I'm the Joneses and someone looks into my backyard

2017 was
one of the hardest
years of my life
I started
cutting again
I tried to
**** myself
my depression hit
an all-time low
I was at
rock bottom
and I promised myself
2018 would be
different
it won’t turn out
the same
but three days in
and it’s already
looking the same
if not worse

A couple hours from now, as we are toasting a farewell to a neoteric past, a new year will emerge from the ashes of 2017. Like a phoenix, it will rise again, and sing sweet songs of new beginnings and manifest hope for a better year. We wait for this day in anticipation praying the months to follow will be anything but a repetition of a life once lived. We convince ourselves that we will be more productive, that we will be more active, and that THIS is the year that will change our lives. So we set New Years resolutions, we mark our calendars with exciting new adventures, we establish new goals and reimagine our old dreams hoping that in this new year, we can accomplish them all. But, for many eager and willing people, months will go by without any true transformation. And as the year draws closer to its end, they are again transfixed by old habits and excuses. Their excitement and determination will have faded into the mundanity of reality setting them back to where they were before. For a new year can’t be the driving force for change. A new year shouldn’t be the starting point for innovation. Because refinement shouldn’t be pushed to a certain date and time. And if someone really wants to revolutionize their life, why wait?

Too long,
Too long I point my vision
In awe towards the inexistent flaw
Embedded within the lustrous cracks of your smile
Splitting through the melancholy-infused,
My timeless sunless sky
I tremble,
More than just a sugar rush,
A heaven-sent electric current;
Starts the heart-shaped engine,
Rips through its tendons,
Accelerates, opposing the infirm currents ,
Of the impaired circuit,
Sensitizes it to a form of "life".
The thunder then pounds within the hollow,
Slowly devastates the shallow.
Bruises branch down my neck,
The bolts sink down to my deck,
Engraving everlasting fractal marks ,
Of fractions of whiles,
When I was stone-blind ,
Consumed by the euphoric rush,
Of your broken white lights,
Shocked into submission,
Getting used,
Falling for abuse.
Lightning was your name,
The thunder was your doomed game.
Maybe one end only surges in mortal power,
But the other has fallen, devoured.
Blind, but now I see coherently,
Rewired differently.
My fingertips still trace down the marks,
Till they have memorized their very whereabouts,
But now I embark,
On the journey of focus on my ever-present,
And your ever-absence.
Tainted with specks of your broken light,
My sky then gives birth to ravishing stars,
That decorate the gloomiest of inky skies.
Sometimes the stars fall,
To witness me wishing him away,
Closely hear me say,
The last of my goodbyes;
So long for now,
So long for then.