every day, he looked out the window,
his inhibitions toppling over like dominos;
he gawked at the blackbirds, all the same:
he could not tell a friend from a foe.

he never thought he’d go so far -
as to slay ‘the raven’ with a crooked crowbar;
his conscience dripped with sins, and rose -
a thorny heap of fallacies, charred.

he blamed the world for all he was;
convinced in his soul that he had a good cause:
it wasn’t enough to redeem his faux pas, so -
he bore the tag of an ill-fated outlaw.

of all the names, by which he was called,
who knew - one day - he’d cease to show up?
a child dead of his innocence, who
never learned how to -
as they say -

‘grow up!’

Right in front of the mirror
Couldn't be an error—
Stood the two, unfazed
By the look of crazed
On both of them;
Clock shows - 2 AM
One was mesmerized
While the other - agonized.
Eyes were amazed by
The beauty of face and body;
They both made a cry—
“Disgusting…”, “what a hottie!”

Gazing at the window said:
“Imperfect and ugly,
Selfish and a phony—
You should be dead!”
They saw there nothing but
Failure and total ****;
Grasping their neck, wishing it to be cut;
Felt the hate that went from—
The pits of abyss
Which was the soul of this—.

“The hair and that skin!
So smooth and clean
Face perfect as a goddess—
Divine self, more and not less!”
They were happy,
To shine, fully ready
For the loving and sharing
Their light, with caring,
To others' miserable selfs,
To save their broken shells.

But the clock struck again—tick-tock,
And the two froze, locked.
One whispered, "Who am I, truly?"
The other murmured, "Am I worthy?"
The mirror stayed silent,
Its truth’s still defiant.
Two minds at war, yet one body—
A perfect mess of soul and folly.

I hold on too tightly,
You tell me to ‘tread lightly.’
Fearful to let go,
you tell me “let’s just take it slow.”
you pull away;
I pull you close.

My nails sink deep into your skin,
You flinch away in pain-
I apologize,
Yet I pull you close again.

I kissed you too hard,
until your lips were blue and sore.
I ran my fingers down your back,
And made you bleed some more.

I kissed your neck,
Then you started to choke.
I held your face in my hands,
until it was fear I started to evoke.

I held you tight,
you started to suffocate.
I held on with all my might,
you continued to hesitate.

now I’ve lost you;

I hadn’t realized my hands had claws,
I had you clenched in my jaws.
If I could’ve just paused,
Maybe I’d seen the harm I’d caused.

Please understand what I have to do;
it was far too much to put us both through.

Now I keep my distance,
I couldn’t continue my persistence.
My kisses no longer linger,
like a bee whose lost its stinger.  

I stung you,
and pulled out my insides.

I won’t hold my lips to you neck,
or wait to hear your pulse.
I left us such a wreck,
I clung onto you like an impulse.

I held on too tightly,
until I had to completely let you go.
Now you’re just a pain that visits nightly,
you came in at a point where I was already at a low.

Why couldn’t I just take you slow?

Despite our muddy backgrounds,  
we congregated all the pureness and
reached out for the sun.
Promised that we’d stay untouched
from impurity.

Then nightfall alongside torment came.
You closed down,
submerged back into the mud we bloomed out.
And I heard you lament, submerged,
“I will live through this until it takes my life.”

Alone, I remained in the gloom.
The darkness of isolation crept up,
with muck jerking at my roots.
Within above, I told the moon,
“I’ll open for you another night.”

Inside myself, I suffocated
remembering who I was.
From the dirt we came,
grime that nurtured us,
the smite that we blossomed from.

Yet you shoved yourself back in,
took the filth as your selfhood.
Kept shut to the moon, believing
you are a facade
since no one knew your roots.

If anyone was ****, it was me.
The roots of yours could be ripped out.
Reflected in the sunshine,
still you’d be observed as clean.
I’d die a martyr for that belief.

The sun rises as you remerge,
the stains you’ve collected fall off.
You are left pure, intact,
despite it all.
You are my lotus.

Lying, exposed,
I've made myself
A sacrificial lamb
On the altar of
The unmade bed.
Time and again
I offer myself
To a merciless, wrathful
God, a wolf, a serpent
A blasphemous act
Against my unclaimed heart.
These are no Gods
Towering over me,
Only vultures picking me
To scraps.