Let your ink spill like tears,
And pour out your emotions.
Let it drip the stories untold,
In the most exquisite motions.

Weave your characters,
Intertwine their Fates.
Sew you chapters,
With emotional paints.

Bind the spine,
With the ingredients
Of fine wine
Then let the reader digest

dined with companions,
who could not care less.
went along for the ride with half a heart,
i confess -
sung a word of praise, or two -
for it’s like a game of chess;
chose my words carefully,
not trying too hard to impress.

i could not keep their company for long -
would not keep lying still - it was wrong;
gave up their lives, in a moment of truth -
raked my soul, all winterlong.  

kissed goodbye to the daylight, i -
gave it up for a different kind of nightlife;
believed - solitude was an inmate,
with a hidden jackknife;
turns out - solitary confinement
is but an oxymoron of life.

the shirt, unbuttoned;
the V cuts deep enough for -
U to C me bare.

there’s a great divide -
between the anatomy of my brain,
and the fluidity of my mind;
i struggle to make the crossover,
for i must advance in phases
in between their flimsy makeovers:
in, and out -
then back in again.
the brain is humbled by its own mortality;
the mind boasts of an eternal life;
both petrified by rancid thoughts
of yesterday -
and the day before that -
and the month before that -
and the years before…

as i regress -
slowly, and infinitely -
i long for my natal mind,
and a tougher cranium.

i can feel the weight,
on my tongue -
of a heart so heavy,
and a mind so young;
i cannot say -
why i went this way;
i do not know, how to
get off the causeway:

on one end, there’re facts;
though verified, and true -
on the other end, lie feelings,
i never really knew -
i had buried so deep,
i failed to see them through;
the facts - do not change,
but the feelings - they do.

i promised not to rely too much
on one way, or the other;
now i’m stuck, biding my time,
reflecting on shallow waters:
i look, long and hard, and see -
the feelings start to resurface;
but in fact, i see -
a herring’s carcass - floating -
so still, and perfect.

a shadow streaks across my face -
i brace myself for, just in case -
i feel it looming - heinously close;
in fact, it’s an eagle;
i step aside - clear the way:  
the eagle tucks its wings
for a nosedive;
it wants the herring -
dead or alive:
it takes what it wants,
leaves nothing behind -
neither facts, nor feelings;
only ripples of lies.

walk me down the alley, will you?
it’s so dark, and terribly true:
the walls close in;
the air cuts thin;
on a skin that’s weary of
a diabolical flu.

i’ll walk behind ya, all the way -
for i have nothing good to say -
of the ones who lurk
in dreary corners -  
where hope turns bleak;
i dare not speak -

for they can sense
my breathless words;
my every move;
even thoughts, unheard;
you must take caution,
stay low, stay far:
they might mistake us
for who we are  

almost there,
just a few more yards…
you may drop me off yonder -
that moonlit graveyard:
will be there, for a while -
don’t wait too long;
the night isn’t over -
things could go wrong.

ready or not,
here i come.
count your blessings,
find the sum -
of all the tears
that’re due to flow
from a corner of your heart
you didn’t even know
existed before;
now open the door;
embrace your mortality -
let it purge your core
of all the notions
that vexed your spirit, and,
twisted your mind, well -
not anymore.

i’ve come to show you
the only way out;  
‘take it or leave it’ -
i’m leaving with you,
or without.
have you no clue  
how profound the disease is? -
it’ll take a while
to pick up the broken pieces.

sleep shall be but a
fleeting dream.
oh yes,
it’s a wicked scheme.
i’ve come to search your soul
like a sleuth;  

i’m your fateful reckoning -
your ******* moment of truth.