As kinetic chaos surges,
Each atom flings outward,
From my marrow’s middle,
Toward the gates of my skin.

The brittle shell
holding me together
Threatens to burst,
While the entropy
pinging down my limbs
commands me into motion.

Boiling toward a peak within,
the cigarette clenched in hand
Becomes my means to bleed it.

Boredom
Nothing to do
Nothing to say
Nothing to feel
Its peaceful
It’s perfect
If only it didn’t feel so wrong
The yearn for excitement
Something to do
Something to say
Something to feel
It feels so right
If only it didn’t lead to a want to do nothing
A need for Boredom
Nothing to do
Nothing to say
Nothing to feel
And such the cycle goes on
And on
Forever longer

i wait for daybreak —
shed embers of disquiet;
my spirit rages.

Betrayal lurking,
In hope of novelty,
Like news carried by the wind,
Blaming indifference,
Breaking the convention
Imposed by society,
Following rules
Indifferent to the heart.

We seek the reason
That "corrupts" emotion.
To be human is to seek reason,
Hiding from sensation.

To succeed and fail,
To run and fall,
To rise and lower,
To cross,
To decide,
To fix and depart.

Here lies the break
In reconciliation,
In the absence of trust.
Love forgives,
But for how long?
Here’s the issue:
The discontent,
The restlessness,
The blessed novelty.

Would we have arrived here,
Without this search?
I don't think so.
What is normal?
What is predefined?
And by whom?

Betrayal is normalized,
A disruption of trust
From an abnormal union,
But natural to the essence,
Like rivers that flow into the sea,
Waves that break through cliffs,
Eagles that migrate and spread,
Devastating tsunamis,
Storms that ravage.

Ah, commitment, pact,
Agreement, alliances,
Necessary for balance,
But inattentive to temptations
And the shocks of passions,
Stronger and older
Than human wisdom.

prone to narcolepsy;
a second thought, like -
a can of pepsi.
sold my peace for
a moment’s notice;
for the panic that utters -
‘you better not blow this!’

i sulk, i cry, i moan… it rains -
the clouds pull closer to
the gravity of my pain;
the birds find shelter at
the neighbour’s windowpane -
they leave me to dry in a room -
terrified, and insane.

i can feel the bed
warming up to my shape;
there’s a stain on the pillow
that reeks of sour grapes -
i try to rub it off,
but give in to my human make:
i curse the neighbour’s birds -
through a ****
on the moss-green drapes.

i hope it’s worth it:
all the trials, and the errors.
i long for a night,
devoid of terror -
so i may sing for a while,
with nothing to lose;
‘to be, or not to be’ -
left to me - to choose.

a restless jitter;
skin-deep promises, unkept:
no nails left to bite.

The hour is an uneasy,
the hour is exasperated,
it paces from one room to another,
taking great strides
to pull me by the wrist
and take me straight to bed.
Not yet,
give me a second a said.
I thirst for a swig
of what this bar has to offer.
Neat! The hour is impatient,
no chance for me to relish
growing old,
no way to feel my insides glycate,
it wants time back,
this itching hour.

no matter how you rove,
you can't trust roads
to lead you home in the
winter.

on occasions, she brews
a tempest laced with
coffee to wreak havoc
in the morning,
and at night,
in between restlessness
and nightmares,
her back holds up a sign
that reads "no yesterdays
allowed"

gone was our youth,
tarnished like trinkets
coated with gold
peddled and sold
like empty promises

sometimes,
white flags are waved,
and we find us wrapped
inside arms that used
to be used to be our home
but the years took
its toll and had us evicted
out of boredom

deep in her eyes,
I see that she is there
at the moment as a misdirection,
fleeting like a daydream fading
into the background
but in the corner
of her disquieting eyes
there is a pulsating
dark light yearning
for emancipation.
There is something
behind their walls
that I dare not behold,
lest, my heart turns into stone,
a monument of brokenness
deeply rooted where it stands
waiting for time to weather
it into dust for the wind to
scatter

it's utterly tiring
to spit words
that leave wounds
for us to dress with
never-again bandages
for in time,
in the most inopportune
circumstances our deathless
animosity just
seeps through

yet,

as voracious as we are
to be alone, we atone
for still we loved

we can't always
trust the roads to lead
us home in winter,
but if take the good
with the bad
maybe one day
we can look back
at our madness
bold enough to say
though our hearts betrayed
still we loved.

i'm restles§ & laZy
& wirəd & tired
& not ⁿ°ⁿuncraZy
& antiadmired

a little bit manic
& chillaxed as a maniac
i picnic with Panic
& retardədly brainiac

& God as my wittiness
i'm ●ver herə trying
to c○pe with the shittiness
of living while dying