I only know to cope in a couple of ways
- slam up some walls
Pretend it doesn't hurt
Move on
Innocence is a mockery on my face
My lips twist into grotesque resemblance
of long-gone smiles

It is difficult to remember
to relax
to be normal
'normal'

you come back in flurried recollections
blurs
and
heartaches

a pain starting from the middle
of my forehead
to the crick in my neck
right to my wrists
softly rotating trying to relax
i smile

this is normal

I thought terribly hard of all the things

I wanted to say in the spaces of your time and mine

my heart rushes ahead of all the things I want to type out and

the time spent crafting my life journey

pathetic as it was

sad and stupid as it was

in the memory of my life

I dedicate it to myself

as something I deserve to have done for myself

not subjecting anyone else to my whining

my feeling sorry for myself and

trying to escape this feeling sorry,

feeling bad for and about

myself





this was my act of selfishness-

one of many I must admit-

however there is something to be said

about taking out for no one

but myself

and in a heartbeat, my life,

continues



no-one needs judge

this is my ode to myself

You
Are quiet
Almost reverent
As you touch
What remains
Of her memories
His memories
You recall
With fondness
And tears
As you consider
All that they had done
Her memories
Laced with a certain
Bitter-sweetness
Reminiscent of your
Pointless rebelliousness
I am sure
The screams figuratively
Ring out when you talk
Silently, reverently
Of their memories
As we watch, respectfully
When you lay down
Your ode for your parents

There was a pause a skip in the beats
and I said that that
was it

I felt that that was it and I felt like I would
so I could
and I did

And I thought that that was it but what I thought
I could
and I did

Thought it would follow me around

If we called them threads,
and managed to catch them
in the palm of our hands
and just hold it there forever,

Would that make it easier?
Would that make life better?
Will it make us happier?
Will it be like a little charm
exchanged in-between friends?

The kind that makes a person
grin? The kind that they take
out and stare at secretly when
the world has walked out on them
and it still makes them smile?

If we could call the rays of the
sun, thread and tie it around
our wrist, like a symbol for something
bigger than you and me, like a symbol
of change, could we be happy again?

Maybe we would be, but would it
scorch us and brand us with it's
unforgiving heat? It would look like
a burn from rope tied too tightly and
for too long, showing our courage,
our will to look ahead.
A will made of fire.

With such a bright, harsh symbol,
would the facades of many crumble to
reveal their intentions?
Would anything come out of it but anarchy?
Anything but turmoil and not knowing
whom to trust.

That symbol of change and hope and something
so much more bigger than humanity itself
What would happen if we could hold
one ray of sunlight in the palm of our hands?

Don't call yourself a river
- it evaporates leaving a stony riverbed fish skeletons behind
Don't call yourself a rock
- it is worn away with time into fragments, smoothed planes
Don't call yourself the sun
- get too close and burn
Don't deem yourself the night sky full of stars
- they are ancient echoes vibrating with radiation
Comparing yourself with pens, knives
- mere inanimate tools; their meaning only lies in their use

Call yourself human
Feel the imperfection settle into your bones
and own your identity
Looking for faint romantic descriptions in
non-living objects
is irony
don't you see?
This body of yours will decay
Bit by bit every part will fail you
Feel the blood in your veins, wearing away your vessels
Growing stronger, then weaker
You were meant to be embraced from the day you were born,
child of nature
You are the present, the now
Just as ephemeral
You are human- breathing in and out
Your purpose is always clouded

If you don't afford me the same respect
That I afford you
How dare you expect me to hold my tongue
Keep my silence
Look down, look away, so as not to offend
your darling pride
How dare you pretend that you're all
Supreme
Though you are almost hypocritical
You might delude
Yourself into believing yourself fair
But you're anything
But fair in your dealings, anything
but respectful
How dare you tell us that we have to keep
Shut and follow
When you barely set the brightest example
No one expects
You to be a perfect idol, but you're just vile
In your treatment
We might be below you for now, but one
Day we'll go on
To become the future generation, the leaders,
The pioneers
So lady, please talk nicely because even though
I avert my eyes
Try and keep my tone flat, even I have a threshold
When I break
And look at you finally, with the eyes that scream
'Anger! Hate!'
Be careful. I might not make the best grades, and I
Certainly don't
Believe I do. It isn't even my first priority but I am
Still your student
Still obliged to you but even I won't back off if you
Start talking down
Like I am a pesky bug that needs wiping away
I am not
Going to simply avert my eyes then and look away
I will stand
Scream out the truth I believe, I see, the truth of you
Being totally unfit
For such a holy profession as teaching

from dusk to dawn,
I wish I'd catch a wink of sleep
it certainly isn't pleasant to be going to sleep
when the rest of the household starts to rouse themselves
but such is the life of a closet insomniac
such is the life of one who lives in paranoia
such is, after all, the life of one who only ever comes alive
with the Night City,
my Night City,
identified by the purplish-black clouds that blanket
the city and the neon lights that adorn it,
once again letting
us insomniacs become ourselves,
the ones who laugh and dance
and live and breathe when the world sleeps

the ones that return to existing as mere
shadows with the dawn of the sun
for us though, the awakening of the world is
with the appearance of starlight
with the quietening of most of
the sounds that plague daylight
random fires on streets are put out and
we are left
to delight in the fiery-orange neon lights.

aah.
but what a sad time for us
when we become shadows
unable to do anything, with heavy weighted limbs
that refuse to obey any command,
with woolly heads and sleep deprivation,
almost-vampires for we don't sparkle
bruises under our eyes are barely noticed
for they are always there
during the day, shadows we become.
brushed aside and barely noticed, yet
in silence we choose to remain,
muted revelry, safe in the knowledge
that night will return again.

A ripple in the pond
- reflection of *time

The moon shines down below
On us pathetic mortals
With nothing but malice to our name
And myths of love to counter those.
Love and hate aren't opposites
For they both display passion
Ground-breaking passion
But indifference. Indifference
Is where true evil lies
Then again, evil is but the absence of good
So let us rephrase,  
Indifference is like smoke to us humans
Flighty at best, comes and disappears.
Something we desperately try to hang on to
But it always slips away
Leaving nothing but a slight smell
As a reminder of the numbness
That was indifference.
In comparison to this,
Passion is like the tree
Which has deep roots
And has seen many a tale occur
If you try and remove it,
It will leave a crater, where it stood.
Lives that nested in it will be lost.
Left to fend for themselves,
Most will not survive the felling.
The ones that do, will flee
To something similar.
When these don't remain,
The earth will be in ashes.

P. B. J.
Peanut Butter and Jelly
P. B. J.
I eat this everyday
Is this really healthy?
Who cares? We're rats anyway
P. B. J.

i was hoping that sleeping would become easier with age
and exhaustion

money was always the problem but now that it's not, i
genuinely thought

my shoulders and neck would unwind and i would rest
easier

my neck twinges, protesting my naivety, my wrists
have stiffened


i am contemplating how better to grow up...

should i...

learn pottery?
drive a car?
invest my money?
go on dates?
find new friends?
lose some weight?
go for a trip?
eat some good food?
do something interesting?


i am sitting in front of the tv, i laugh

a funny joke, some good-looking people struggle
with relationships, stupid games, insane challenges


my mind wanders and i forget


now, the chill is in the air, leaves fall to the ground,
night grows longer, i am exhausted

my knees hurt, my back hurts, i shed more hair,
cannot down pizza like i used to before

my mind wanders and then, exactly when i need the sleep,
lands again in this **** hole

of picking something again

there is something in me
that tries to get out

and i like how sylvia ended her life
'baked to death'
- sounds fun

it seems like an interesting time

what is the point

i struggle to understand

i want to cry and cry
and never stop

but i tire with the thought
so i stop right there

and all i want to do
is sleep on
your floor of still hopes and dreams
stare at the walls of nightlight
and skies still reflecting the moon and the stars

then look up at the infinitely dark ceiling of sound sleep

without thoughts of tomorrow and baking and living and points being lobbied like endless ping pong ***** around my head

There were places I should not have gone
Like the path of squeaking tires
On rainy nights
Skidding

Slipping
Falling on top of each other
A highway pile-up

With flames raging in the air

"You remind me of that,"
I tell this moment as it passes me by

The leaves above my head
Fire engine red
Softly waving in the breeze




The water doesn't wash the color away

For this little mote of dust,
Across the seven oceans,
The planets will bend,
Space will fold to
Accommodate us, our hearts
Just so we can be together
For one more night
As we sit together,
And I cry on your shoulder
The planets will **** well bend
Tonight, even if I had to carry their
Weight on my insignificant shoulders
For the rest of eternity
Tonight, I can't be without you,
Your voice, that gives me hope
Even when I've lost my faith
Just for one more night
Which I can spend with you
Letting my voice reach you
When I cry on your comforting shoulder
While I hold you up with my belief in you
As sobs rack my frame and the night
Gets darker, they develop into laughter
Space will fold, if only,
For one night

At night, you sit and you make plans
- Houses, cars, babies, insurance
Just so many plans, in case something
Does not work out
You share some with him

He knows about your little problems
The ones you don't talk about
In polite company as you sneak away
Take your little white pills so you
Can keep it a secret for another day

You make so many lists of things
Things needed to build up your dreams
Different lists for every dream
It's exhausting, exacting work
But you sit up through the nights

Do it anyway, asking for his input
You were a little scared the first time
You showed him a list, told him about
Your little habit. He didn't even blink
As he started debating the finer points

His ease, total acceptance, took you aback
No one had done that for you- no one
You always had trouble verbalising how
Much it meant to you but he understood
Not a word from you, but he looked you in the eye

And he understood. It was tough going
There were nights when he could not handle
Some other things- small things- like toilet seats,
Other males in your life, but never your lists
It terrified you some times and you had to leave

You took a long time- maybe, too long- getting
Used to his presence, his little habits as well
But the both of you stuck it out together
Despite your differences. He tolerated things
- Loved the things- others could never stand about you

The plans now included him. Despite your
Competitive behaviour and the slight bits
Of insane and inane that you were, he became
Part of your world. People generally had no
Place there but he became a common fixture

You slowly started to believe

"He was in an accident. We're sorry but nothing could be done.
Could you please come to the hospital
For identification immediately, Miss?"

Your plans broke down and you could only watch
As they tumbled down, down into the sea of endless despair
Your lists were all useless now. All that work that
Included him, useless. You couldn't believe it
- the plans, the lists! Barely a thing could be heard,
Seen over all that wasted paper, all that time

(he said he'd be back in an hour or so
you were supposed to go out for lunch)

Your breath stopped. It nearly stopped and
You could only clutch your head, grip your hair
As you struggled to get a grip on yourself
On your perception of reality. He was gone
You were here. And there was nothing else

You looked up, horrified at all the desks and drawers
You frantically ripped them all out, hunted them all down
Tossed them together in a pile on the floor of your
Living room. All those lists, now just worthless bits of paper
With bits of optimistic, fictional words on them

You hated yourself. You dreaded, loathed, badly wanted to
Hurt yourself. Not the other driver, never anyone else
You hate yourself and you knocked back more than
The prescription said and you lit the entire pile on fire
As you went back to sleep. Tomorrow was another day.
There were things to be done. But before you let yourself
Get lost in sirens, neon lights, the could-bes and the accusations
Present in your nightmares, you took another piece of paper
And noted down, 'Funeral'.

I don't know about the world
I have never believed in anything
anyone

But I believe in her

To the end of the universe
Because when the stars burn

And heaven decides it has had it
Hell wants me
My soul is shattered
And pulled everywhere at once

When I can't stop the shaking
The earth floor is pulled out
From beneath my feet

When my world fades
I look around furiously

But I cannot see what everyone else
Focuses on

And I cannot understand the colourless
World around me
Just blurs and shapes
With white noise surrounding me

Standing in the middle of a crossroads
With lorries bearing down
Without brakes
From all directions




My god,
I believe in her





*she'll be there

Poems
are to be quietly
silently whispered
over fires made
out in the chilly cold

Shared, with shifty eyes,
trembling fingers,
trembling voice,
trembling lips,
shaking hands

Reverently whispered
so that the wind
catches the words,
tosses them away
so no one may ever
misuse them again

Poems are to be shared
hiding away
from the world

See, there are two after-effects
For when you feel suicidal

One, you take your own life
That is, you do the deed
You suicide and all that

Second, you keep all of that away
You don't tell people
You hide it within yourself
Train yourself
To ignore what once killed you
Put all that killing away
In some monstrous, deep hole
Inside of you

Something people
Only need to catch a glimpse of,
For it isn't theirs to intrude
You learn to live with it
Day by day

When death comes,
Your eyes are blank
Your thoughts are a copy
But somewhere
Deep inside
What killed you,
Still kills you

So,
Much before this cask had been buried,
Your soul had already died
When the thing that killed you
Stopped killing you

The ceiling fan makes a comforting noise
As it whirs gently, with the premonition
That winter is near

She sits up hesitantly, somewhat afraid
That there might be something there
She just woke up from one of those nightmares
She could barely control her breathing
Fear and anxiety painted in her eyes

She's almost used to it, or so she thinks,
Till it happens again
She begins to shake just a bit
Almost subtly
She doesn't want- need- to think
Any more

She switches on another one of those gizmos
Whiles her night away
So she doesn't have to sleep
She doesn't need to go back
To those **** nightmares

A chill runs down her spine
But she turns up the music a little louder
She doesn't dare to cry
Scared of being heard,
Scared of acknowledging
That which lies silent, looming ahead
In the darkness

She doesn't want to because
Once she does, it would be tougher
To tell herself that they
Hardly matter

That they are not premonitions
Of the future

i crossed one of my biggest goals
off my list for the next summer
but i was thinking of what i were
to do now that that is done and
i was hoping i would have a better
idea of where i was to go what i
was to do and something feels as
if it has given out inside of me

as if my body has forgotten what
keeps it upright moving through the
world and i cannot speak to anyone
not my family or the friends i only
pretend to have so i am alone for
all intents and purposes so i keep
my phone on do not disturb to ignore
all the calls and messages i do not
get and spend holiday nights away
in strange places with people who
are unknown and strange hoping that
the next morning it will make a
little bit more sense and i will know

The light dims, the night darkens
Hardly anyone's on the streets now
We are sitting back, our bellies full
Barely a thing left to talk about
A comfortable silence forbids our
Tongues from wagging with their
Usual tenacity. Your eyelids droop
With sleep. The stars and moon can
Be seen 'cause only the street lights
Are on. The music is the only
Decipherable sound in our vicinity.
We'd get up to say our goodbyes
But we're too comfortable to even
Think about moving. The glowing embers
remain. The fire died a long time ago.

Images float in-front of your eyes.
Your hair flies in the wind, almost wild.
You struggle with your skirt a little bit,
Feeling glad that you wore shorts underneath.
The wind can be heard even over the
Honking of the cars, as it carries some
Stray, withered leaves.
The sky has darkened and you can smell the
Freshness of grass over the smoke and
Stink of ******* dumps in the open.
The crows start flapping around in
Choreographed committee and start cawing
About the latest weather changes.
It somehow doesn't surprise me that this
Reminds you of countless others you
Might know.
The crows ruffle their feathers and
Take shelter in predefined places.
It is another rainy day amongst
Billions of others that have occurred.
To state the obvious, you have too
Much time in your hands if you begin
Describing another rainy day.

lately ive been lost
looking at others
hoping that there is
a life beyond and
bigger but reality
gets and stays bigger
with age; bills are
no longer in hand
they are just like
everything else-
numbers on screens
too bright to see
through the glare

Copulation
- meaning of entire human
civilization

if they knew all they would become to were
some scars i regretted and did my best to forget
i wonder if i had known would i have changed my experiences
would i have tried to be colder stand straighter more upright
chin jutting out, daring the world to try one more time to put me
down, defiant and confident in my struggle that it was for me alone
but then the thought strikes me is that if even now all i gather are scars
instead of the cooling aloe that i need to heal past burns, some ice to cool
the heat under my skin from the betrayals and hurt i had felt once upon a time
a heat that still burns my insides today, the sharp tears of which left scars on
insides of my eyelids, a movie on repeat whenever i close my eyes to sleep or blink
in the middle of a good conversation with a new person standing in my casual self wishing
i could be somewhere else the moment i remember the slashes, the quiet shattering of my insides

I can hear the sound of rain
Against the asphalt
The cars honking with
The almost unheard birds
Just a beat behind
But what stands out in my memory
Are the smoky grey skies
And the tree barks looking like
Shades of watercolour brown
Everything shining
Steaming silently, looking silvery
Peaceful
I remember a number of things
But I cannot forget
That smell
So reminiscent of rain

i prefer the noise of river flowing
there's this overall gush you can
hear and some weird sort of continuity
you really don't get when you sit
beside the sea so when i think of my
favorite water sounds i like thinking
of the river and sometimes when i am
in the shower i like to close my eyes
pretend i am in the middle of this
great river which is engulfing me
in its tide and current but i am
strong and big enough to stay steady
at the center and in this place i
am no one but the person in the middle
of this river and this person has
no cares of who is waiting at the banks
and who is not because this person
is so strong and can hold themselves
against this magnitude this volume
of water and i sometimes change the
temperature of the shower from
hot to cold so i can make it more
realistic in my mind and i imagine
myself to be big and invulnerable
dignified and respected with many
scars from battles won with a strong
back that does not hurt as much as
mine does and i sometimes wonder
what i would need to be and do to
become as stately as i want to be
in my mind i am that person in the
river untethered but firmly rooted
knowing that they are exactly where
they need to be because when needed
the river erodes this person's foothold
and then rather than panicking this
person allows themselves to be carried
by this great mighty river because
now they know this place is no longer
theirs to be so they are moved at the
will of the river and themselves to
another new place where they will again
firmly root themself until the next
cycle.
i wish i knew to move myself when
my time was up. but i don't.

There was black coming out slowly over my face

Actual words and sentences
A small picture of a smiley face


I involuntarily grinned back
Adding a black mole
- or was it a dimple?
- to the face



I write the things I am happy for
Because I lack people to be happy for



I think a bit more
And add in names of people I should probably talk to


'I will get around to talking to them eventually,'
I think now.
I hope I still do later.


I write some equations and mathematics reminders
- they make me feel peaceful


The universe calls out it is 4 AM

I hear the birds sing.



It's nearly dawn
- and my eyes smile back.

He keeps writing,
Keeps trying, believing
That he stands a chance.

I will love you
in the worst ways possible

I will take you slowly at first
then all at once like a sudden storm

The small light touches
Innocuous

A gale of laughter

Secret smiles
Like the sun playing hide and seek
on a particularly cloudy day


I will rip you apart and settle into your bones

Love you like you've never felt it before
As if there was no one but Me


I will tear you into bits
And open out the auricles
and ventricles of my heart


Tell you it's necessary
And leave
In a sudden storm

I will say it was for you
So you could move on  
Find someone better

Love someone the Right way
I'm too much of a mess,
I'll tell you

And when I leave
You'll beg me on your knees
To stay

I will say it is necessary
and go away
Say that one day,
looking back,
You'll see why

But my lightning
Will reside in your lungs and breath
Even as I make you burn

You'll never see why

But you know I wouldn't stay
I can't stay, I always say

I will apologise
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry

But

But
Maybe I really needed to go
before you sunk into my bones
became my lightning
and took me by surprise

I will make you taste blood in your mouth
I'll be your biggest fan
When you write raving about my misdeeds
and coldness

I will see your writing grow exponentially
In oceans and mountains

I will love you love you love you
The only way I've known how

- from a distance.


this is how I've survived.

the floor digging into curves
i did not know by body had
with my body curving absurd
my hands full of realization
that my shapes are awry
off-the-mark

my legs sit ahead
lax tired filled with exhaustion
of not enough miles walked
enough sitting around day
to day and working on
support of my sitting body

i feel sorry to have taken
away their purpose
a life should be better
lived but it's owner
weary and filled
with excuses

works day and night
on sitting or sleeping
not doing much but
just a floater
focused on
a sky always cloudy

a pathetic soul
one of many
just a sad sad soul
in its generalizing
with the many
and the soul has no
shine

but hit escape
life has its
own rhythm and groove

but the groove that once
made itself known
seeps into the silence of
trees, nights, stars
rarely seen

words barely written
unartistic
unassuming
arbitrary
uninteresting
invisible

­screaming heart
quietens under
burden of
weightlessness
of existence

I will rear my hand back
And let it fly

Across the space-time divisions
The empty spaces of our
Memories and hatred

Rear it back
And tear it all away
Rip into shreds the nights
We had nothing in our hearts
The nights when we
had it all


I will let it crash against the mirror
of your absence

and let out a choked breath

As I bring myself under control

Leash the emotions
Always bubbling the constant laughter

and happiness

And love

The multiple echoes ringing out
Splitting my hands with the
Shattering windows and mirrors

Staring into my eyes
Spell-bound
Seeing years pass by
Speaking to the faces that no longer
Stayed
Wished for a breath
Washed-out on this beach of regrets
Wandering around, clutching to
Words and smells of who we used to be
Whispers of the air

The sinew of my hand breaks
As it recites to me the long-lost saga
Of my race
It tells me its sins and hopes and regrets

and regrets

and  r  e  g  r  e  t  s

I dream on

Hollow-eyed
Sleep-deprived
Backed into the corner
of my nightmares
The scar above my eye
Needle-marks on my chin

Throbbing
Remembering

I hold up my hands
A raw meat hammer


And they reach nothing
Past the empty fjords and valleys
where you used to reside

I am left










here

The waves reach out on the shores
of everlasting peace

and solitude

Trees hang plentiful
the sky overcast with green-blue tones

the sun shines down
warm
sweet breeze whispering secrets
to the canopy

a slight sound accompanies
with its slow hissing sound

the ship burns slow, large, majestic
towering
on the horizon miles away


the ship lies broken driftwood
Breaking down
Medley of browns
greens
and
Crimson Reds

Wet, shredded, decayed

washing up on the shore

They sat, locked fingers across their knees,
curled against their chest. The sand uncomfortable-
gritty in their teeth, irritating their scalp,
in their pants; little red ants climbing on their bare
skin. Shells lie broken, a hazard, they've been told.

There is something beautiful about the way
the sea comes back to kiss the shoreline,
taking things but also leaving little surprises
behind- some gifts returned like a spoilt child
or some deity unhappy with the offered selection,
and some new unopened treasures brough in from
cousins abroad, as if an angry mother still
serving food to misbehaving children.

I am not one of those people who put up angry notes because of some crazy impulse or a destructive desire to rail against everything that is wrong with the world.
I am not the person whose hands shake so violently,
Whose body shudders so uncontrollably,
That I cannot type straight

But today, I just found out
That people
They pick up my poems
My emotions
Tangible
heavy
difficult
Solidified
Are being picked up
Likened to rags
And treated as cheap caricatures
Of the life I've led

If only they had ever felt
That gut-clenching fear
Of something beneath the surface
The scars that have faded
Covered by new skin
Over the years

If they felt
The need to end their own life
As acutely
As I do

I've never stopped
Not even once
Since the past seven years
It's been right here

Hidden underneath the layers
In between the lines
Read deeper if you dare

After some time,
You know that
They don't
They can't
Understand  
That scars like these...
They don't go away
They don't fade
They come knocking
At midnight to tell you
About how they've
Festered for so long
Even after, you talk them out
Resolve them, lay them to sleep
They revisit you, dragging you back
To memories best forgotten
Touches burnt on your skin
Half-remembered words,
Hateful, disgusted expressions
Cheapened expressions
That make your soul unclean

Ordinary, everyday people
Could never understand  
Why you need to look away
Fidget so much, the hidden
Violence with which you **** back
When someone touches
Upon such sensitive issues
Maybe you talk it over with them
Once, perhaps, and then they think
That it is gone, it is laid to rest
But what they fail to realise
Is that it comes back, creeping
Crawling, taking you over again
They'll turn away, disgusted
Because they don't know the
Impacts of long-term exposure
To slow poisoning of heart, veins, lungs

And they'll turn away
Repulsed, disinterested
When you come crying
Begging for some help
Some solitude
Because you can never
Make them feel  
The pent-up emotions
Over a decade
The unseen scars
These little things
Have left you with
They will not see
The confusing mixed
Messages being sent
By those other people
They will not understand
That you're not looking
For something you've
Lost, right there,
Sitting on the ground,
Almost helplessly,
On your knees

In fact, you're looking
For something
That was never yours
To have in the first place
(peace, solitude,
no more loneliness,
no more emptiness)

Something
you have
(never had)
Permanently
Lost

Could someone point the way
to salvation please or even
just a full night's sleep,
without being bone-tired?
Kind people, could you
please tell me
a way to feel again?
If not, could you just
tell me how to trust again?

You see, as of now,
I'm in this ugly space where nothing is
non-existent and something is just a warning
that I am going to be doing something
irredeemably dumb.

Did you hear, kind madam, that yesterday
a girl, barely four months old,
was killed because she was lesser?
Did you know that her older brother
burnt her hand intentionally, and her
father only laughed? Her mother
killed herself, you know.

Rumours say, her mother-in-law hated her
and after the girl was born, she only hated
the woman more. The father, as rumours go,
made her sleep on the floor in the kitchen,
after she birthed a female. The mother hated
the girl so much, but she knew the greatest
punishment would be to make the little girl
live out her life with her father and brother.

The mother couldn't tolerate looking after the
little girl any more, they whisper, let alone,
look at her every day to see a sign of her failure

The police verified the woman died due to rat poison.
Whether she drank freely or due to someone else's
Persuasion and other such insignificant details have
been carefully lost and burnt. The little girl, with no
One to look after her, died. Markings that suspiciously
looked like hands were found around her neck.  
They covered it with a dear little scarf and ignored it.

the familiar feeling of bile rising
from the pits of my stomach
all the way up up up

now at the bottom of my throat

-- i am basically gargling it now

some thoughts and fears never leave
my mind needlessly conjuring up
paranoid scenarios repeatedly

my imagination never failing me

that familiar choking feeling
closing my air passage
and hands shaking
inhaling and exhaling deeply

a panic attack overtaking me
black spots on my vision now
i try to forget the caricatures
drawn in my imagination

heart still racing, flecks on the
sides of my eyes, throat feeling torn

that familiar feeling of helplessness
solitude, loneliness, sadness,
righteous fury, despair, alone,
alone, alone, alone, alone

-- no one around

my walls are whispering,
my memories are ripped apart
every relationship, conversation
overanalyzed, brought to the forefront
of my mind's eye and every worst-case

brought up and the walls that
once seemed sturdy enough to hold
out against the world in my isolation
don't feel thick away anymore

my dreams, miles away, seem like the
worthless struggles of a coward
who can only run away, helpless
clueless child in some adult body

has not read the book everyone
in the room already read-  left
without pretense and a mask

cannot read the cues, hardly
knows when to move on and no good
at drawing lines or forgetting

my heart is pounding, numbness
falls over-- everyone leave,
leave, leave, leave, leave

Sweet, sweet lies dropped into my ear,
Whispered slowly, so slowly, drawled out
In that voice of yours.
You swore, so heart-breakingly sure, that you'd
Never go back to her. You promised you
wouldn't and you'd be thrice ******
Before you did. I looked into your shining eyes
And I let myself believe.
You told me you wouldn't go back to her,
Her vapid smiles, how she enjoyed hurting you,
Like you enjoyed hurting me.
You said I wouldn't find you regretting that you
Left her. You said you'd rather **** yourself.

One fine day, she appeared on the doorstep
She was everything I thought she'd be-
Beautiful, graceful, deadly.
You didn't stand a chance.
She beckoned and you ran back to her,
Ready to be her pack horse again.
Something told me that I'd be seeing you again
Seeing you when you repeated it all over again.

sometimes the pain is so searing,
so blatant

that it brings me to my knees
i felt that writing become a dagger
that i kept reinserting into old scars, open scars,
an implement that i impaled myself on
repeatedly

when i tried to explain and
communicate how i felt to others
by way of prose, by way of tears,
by way of sighs, by weight of grief

i felt the wounds scar over
the dagger still resting under the surface
continuing to hurt awkwardly
as i shifted my weight from foot to foot
to walk from my kitchen to my couch

i hated the feeling of it scarring over
my tears having already been given
no longer healing the scab that had formed

what do they call these fake scabs anyway?
it's just disguising the rot below.

would it not be better if i cried in fetal position on the floor?

it all hurts anyway.

sometimes
i apologize so much
i feel like i'm saying sorry for my existence

Let me finish what I meant to say before

I'm sorry
For being so damaged
Wanting my death to happen to you

(because I am not the one
who'll be left to pick up the pieces
and it is you
who will need to cope)

I am sorry
That I am so so damaged and
broken beyond repair
That I sit and
Rip my skin into bits
So that I can feel
The burning under my skin

I haven't been hugged like that in ages
And I hope you don't know what happened to my shoulders

This is not just a phase

I am so sorry
That this is not a simple phase

I am sorry
That you got someone like me
Who thinks the way I do
And acts the way I do
Especially with myself


I am sorry
You didn't get someone more normal
Who can pretend they're alright
Convince themselves every night
And don't believe that there's
Something much better out there
That the universe is much crazier
And madder than can be believed







.

cold benches

black benches

silver coal in moonlight

red golf umbrella

gold yellow in moonlight


a yellow spider climbs on




a cobweb dangles below
torn by wind

the ocean of my bloodline calls out to me
from the sinew of my scars

we walk, strangers on parallel shores


the cigarette butts have been rubbed out all over my inner thigh

a flash there

another here

the platinum shackles on my ears and hand
betray my animosity

- this is no social call

"You're my tool. I hope you remember that"*

The words were whispered to her
By a figure, sitting, cigarette clenched
Not yet lit; A lighter is tossed in her direction
She knows it isn't about their ego
It's a statement of her loyalty

Bends down on one knee
Kindles it with a match instead
Lighter still clutched in her hands
She walks out, leaving it on the table
Just beside the door

I nearly tore myself into a million
Billion little pieces so many times
Was on the brink of something
So destructive too many times
As I see this happening,
This thing with no one caring about
What scarring remains
I hide them quickly, carefully
Too much experience at it
But I hide it away, quieten it
For another day. Damp the pain
So when I'm alone, I can let it return
Let it shake my soul, my will power
At two in the morning, I wish
That I could just let it be for just
A moment so that I can rest for
Forever and a day. My thoughts
They strike too close, do not try
And understand. I would just like
To be given a hug, warmed over
By something as trivial as a smile
What I would not do for someone
To see me for a change but now
It hardly matters, because you
They don't see me
They never did anyway and
I would be ****** if I allowed
Myself near such people ever again
I had rather become a wallflower
Dead on my eighteenth birthday
Discovered lying in a pool of my own blood
My entire life's work burning alongside
Don't blame yourself mom, don't
Blame yourself dad, not you either brother
This was my decision. In the end, I was
Too weak and it was only the thought of you
That kept me here till today.

all i wanted was to lie in a pool of sunshine
so hot i could barely breathe, dream or think
ripping them away like crunchy autumn leaves
falling from trees in gusts of strong winds
i wanted to be engulfed in a hot pool
so hot i have difficulty breathing
and my clothes get covered in sweat
this uncomfortable heat and brightness
cruel in its desensitization but also
a mercy for my brain which churns and pivots
bouncing around thoughts and dreams which
make me wish for sleep and then hate sleep
wish i could run run and lie in pools of
molten sunshine burning my skin to the bones
so i can perhaps breathe for five minutes
without a weight on my chest
a crick in my neck tightness in my back
surprising liquid on my face
where does it come from?
what is its purpose?
where does it go?
all evaporate in this stupid pool of garbage
sunshine and i

i can pretend my heart does not beat blood
my presence matters
i am not sad
not contemplating numerous ways to die
in the spaces between my thoughts and dreams
in my thoughts and dreams

i remember and i forget hoping

hope kills and love dies
belief lies and relationships burn
a hollowness a cavity

there is sadness and there is a rhythm
but i
do not remember the paths i tread
following these endless roads to that rhythm
i once had
where is it now?
what is its purpose?
where does it go?

i lie in embarassment and bashfulness
dance around to pretend that love never dies
relationships soothe and hope survives

but in that pool of sunshine
half-truths and half-lies
concepts of gray do not exist in
pure bright white blue
hotness
so i wanted to burn for a bit
let my bones get some air
so my tears can evaporate
the moment they escape
so i can continue saying
my heart does not feel
my heart does not exist