scriptures tear
along her hairline: forehead
creased and painted. i can't
help but think of her
as a deer—as the opening
of the breeze, as the advent
of night, where letters
fold into triangles.

As I turn the page
Thousand births and thousand deaths
None affecting me

Thirty three years Alexander lived
Shakespeare wrote his tragedies
the teacher near our house
...in dhoti turned twice
still ***** with yesterday's mud
goes for another regret
what am I doing?

The play was staged
clowns and faces with paint
their age twenty
The man next door
his face well known
for the cycle he drew across the world
where am I here?
The lunatic
in house arrest wants to breathe
showing the foolish thumb
to people on lanes
but what am I doing?

What am I doing? Doing what? Doing what ?
Till half past three into the night
the question haunts my ribs
A inadequate path, oozing with men flood
but all headless clouds
Am I one in them?
All my life I have been placing this head
The weared out head of mine
In one body
in another
Trying to look into the mirror
On which body does this head of mine
look like me

As I slide on through the wet pavement,
the puddles don't vibrate or shake.
The rain doesn't stall, the drops continue their fall,
each splash pushes my cracks to break.

As I sit under a dark blanket of stars,
I reach out into only empty air.
No one passes by, I don't catch a single eye,
I'm plagued and cursed but can't bring myself to care.

A reward for my lost mind,
a rainbow for the colourblind,
emptiness fills to the core.
Hectic routine clearly outlined,
lip bit and my teeth grind,
I've been hiding in a metaphor.

While I sail through the sky with no safety net,
no bird seems worried for my form,
they don't even blink, they just watch on as I sink,
and they're ready and anxious for my body to swarm.
I always was known as a storm.

A reward for my lost mind,
a rainbow for the colourblind,
emptiness fills to the core.
The sun never showed or shined,
it was stuck, chained in a bind,
I've been hiding in a metaphor.

Once walked along each path
with only untied shoes,
and I felt heartbreak's wrath,
and the old lovers blues,
got the brittle in each bone
and my spine's growing weak,
in the end we all die alone,
but I witnessed a smile in each beak.

A reward for my lost mind,
a rainbow for the colourblind,
emptiness fills to the core.
A mute that never signed,
A soul too late to find,
I've been hiding in a metaphor.

Into the shadows I blend,
never to see light again,
I've been holding doors to my metaphors for you.
Into the shadows I blend,
one day the dark will be a trend,
I've been holding doors, hands covered in sores for you.

Oh I was on fire that night,
now the stars blur in my sight,
I've been holding doors to my metaphors for you.
You know I'm here just like I was then,
I will be there when you come again,
I've been dying and crying on hardwood floors for you.

There's no simile to describe me,
no comparing or analogy,
just one white blank page.
There's no simile to describe me,
no imagery or allegory,
just one lonely cage.

Commitment
That word alone scares me
Because I've had to deal with people
Abandoning me , leaving me
Having me pick up my broken pieces on my own
So thought of someone staying
Confuses me because they say '' I'll stay ''
But every single time like clockwork
Suddenly it turns into silently leaving me and
Abandoning me out of no where
So yes the word and actual commitment
scares me to the point where I am the one
to leave first to spare myself the hurt
And of course from what I've seen
everyone says they will stay but in reality
once one is vulnerable and shows someone all the reasons
not to stay along with the brokenness
that is their past
Of course they all leave
That's what I deserve / All I'm used to  
So why should I expect you to stay
Back it up with your actions
- excerpt from a book I'll never write