#emotionaldistress
...She says:
"Maybe you were made, for something greater."
...But her eyes, are sad.
Breathless, as she watches me, weave.
I spin a yarn, or two,
the ***** of my feet
paddling,
at the treadles,
in rhythmic kicks.
My loom, weaves lore
into cinematic panels
and my audience, is
spellbound.
Film noir;
penny dreadfuls, in a ticking frame.
...I don't know if she's come to notice, yet
how all the textiles, are in black,
and grey.
I scutter, across
the tapestry, of time.
The warp beam,
keeps tension
on the swatch,
of cloth.
The nimbleness, of mind...
drawn, into rib stitch
seed stitch,
keeps the observer,
captivated.
The steely exo-,
which has long drawn, the ire,
of men
draws admiration, now,
having taken untold years,
to crack.
But it is cracking, at last
and she's beginning to see, how
just a finger, slamming
into the soft underbelly,
could ******* me.
Does she also see
the red hourglass,
tatted...
on my lower abdomen?
...Life taught me, to craft, the ripcord,
but, never...the parachute.
I hang, in suspense,
on a pendulum swing.
...What hands, will catch me,
should I fall?
...Whose fingers, will untie,
the knot,
if I should jump?
May 9
May 9, 2026 at 4:24 AM UTC
Why am I so messed up?
That I can hardly talk
My tongue moves but
Noises don't come out
Am I challenged?
Against my own self
Will the war within me
Ever cease to peace
Continuously I keep talking
But just to myself
When will I make my voice heard
My past has been horrendous
My future bleak
In all this circumstances
Is my present too
Getting weak
I need to arise
I need to talk
I don't know
How and where
But I need to open up
My black heart!
-Nirmohi
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 4:05 AM UTC
What is your opinion if
Your knowledge meant nothing?
What if your life's work was
Not what you were calling?
In my mind I search Heaven, Hell
The Universe and the Earthly planes
My mind, my soul
Reasons for life
Philosophy and psychology
Where is all this leading me to?
Do I hold value for myself?
Or in the talks I have with myself?
Or am I just reasoning
Motivating
Something, anything
Healing?
I am almost 30
Not a college graduate
I take the train
I am not established in my career
I can go on a shopping spree though
That won't ease the pain though
It won't fill the void of black
Maybe I have been wrong all the time
All of those books
All of that time spent
Reading, writing, thinking
Imagining, feeling
Is in vain
I go to a thousand places
In my brains
Sometimes it is nowhere
No one knows
If zero is nothing
Doesn't that make it something?
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 6:06 AM UTC
I often wonder
Why do I write some days
And not on others?
Emotional turbulence
Makes me write
A sentence or two
Just to calm it
On the surface
I forget in this turmoil
Where am I actually
Hiding all the trouble
Or rather am I even doing so?
With passing days
My writing decreases
Does it signify
My pain too is vanishing?
Or am I above the stage where
I am unable to write even in pain
I wish to rest my case
With all the problems
With all fingers pointed at me
For there is nothing more
I can write
Or express!
- Nirmohi
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 11:42 PM UTC