In his head was the world
an ocean of detail
that even Bob Ross
could never handle the brush.

He was the average bob
a minority amongst an epidemic
sandpaper was meant for wood
instead people wore without grain.

Speciality was unknown
as his art did not lack depth
but appreciation by
those who handed him
minimum wages
and a life of struggles.

Some day he stopped
once there was an ocean
the next there was only
muddy puddles
because without clouds
there was never any rain
so the paint dried.

If you keep wanting what you don't have,
*you'll never have what you want

I want love
Just as bad as the next person...
But I want a love that can heal--
a love that can fuse together
the shattered and tarnished bits
and make me whole again.

I want a love that electrifies,
amplifies. a love that exemplifies
beauty and truth.
So done being stuffed full of lies,
demonized, anesthetized.
I want feeling, I want meaning.

I need love.

Dar lagne laga hai mujhe ab har khawab se
Ki kahin chhut na jaye tera sath,
Kab aayengi laut ke wo khubsurat pal Jab pakad ke chalenge hum ek dusare ka hath,
Na aane denge gum kabhi tere jeevan me
Bna denge tere har dard ko khushiyo ki raat,


Koi nahin mere zindagi me siwaye tere bina
Jaan lo tum,
Ye dil dharakta hai to sirf tumhare liye
Ese maan lo tum,
chhodenge na sath tumhara saton-janam o humsafar
Kyoki meri pahchan ** tum,
Kyun nahi Kah deti ik bar mujhse ki
Sirf tere hain hum,
sirf tere hain hum .....

Kash! tum hoti mere samne
Karte ek dusare se baat,
Har pal rahta hai mere aankhon ko
teri hi talash,
Bujhake pyaas mere dil ki
pakad lo mera hath,
varshon se baithe hain hum esi intezar me ki
Kab milega mujhe tere sath
ye tera sath