I’m in a perpetual state of punishment for a crime I had no knowledge of committing.

Your indifference is colder than any passionate exchange of anger. At least emotion, even negative, means you care.

Each encounter between us leaves one less piece of me, stealing what I thought was given willingly.

My heart no longer aches, just my eyes. Each disdain-filled word piercing through my corneas as if a car flashed its’ brights just around the corner of a hairpin turn.

Each time, more blinding than the last. Each time, I lose control of the wheel. The car spins out of control and I crash. Hard.

You just keep driving, unphased in the slightest. Par for the course. You’ve seen worse than the havoc I’m left in.

Is it comforting to you? How many crime scenes have you walked away from scot-free?

I finally understand. The blame falls to me. Even though this handiwork has your distinct signature; boy who gives zero ***** for anyone but himself.

this is a tale
of two star-crossed lovers
with a love so powerful
they tainted the heavens
with bursts of colours

they were never meant to be;
mischievous little kids
finding love in sinful glee
in laughter, between dreams and reality

and though it was lawless,
they found solace
because in every prison,
they found a rhyme and a reason

but even for a love so great,
they could not escape
the fates’ wrath and envy

destiny pulled on their threads
cut them loose, thrusted them into misery;
for their memories were wiped clean,
but feelings remained as strong as they had ever been

the boy exiled in a far off land
across the pacific sea
the girl trapped in her need to break free
in a realm both boring and bland

ensnared in a labyrinth of woe
the lovers yearned for anything—
for something, for someone,
to obliterate this endless longing

the gods answered them
in the form of two loved ones
polished in every edge,
a perfect someone

but perfect felt too perfect
and not perfect enough
to fill up the hole
left by a perfectly imperfect

until one day the gods whispered
for the winds to push the two
and the birds to tug at their sleeves
over mountain and sea
even through the darkest valley
so their paths would finally meet

and so they did.

in the flurry of a moment
a pair of brown eyes met
and time was frozen
once more

the two stared intently
as if remembering a broken melody
a lost childhood song
branded as a wrong

the birds fluttered and flew
taking the cursed red fibre
snipped them in two
and the lovers felt all the lighter

it was the girl who spoke first:
“**** the stars.
i don’t want perfect,
i want you.”

eyes dazzling, the boy nodded:
“we’ll invert the universe—
the night sky a blank white
the stars pitch black
the earth moving in reverse”

the fates saw and surrendered
as the stars began to wither
for this love is love
in all its splendor

so the lovers walked away with a promise
under their breaths, they both swore:
“i lost you once,
but nevermore.”

I'm alright
Not 100% better
But i feel somewhat better
Like im on a sugar high of emotions
Compared to my moody past

I have the energy to clean my room
My room was filled with trash
And my demons
It was so messy, so i cleaned it
There are still a few demons lurking but its alright

I have the energy to stay awake
I used to want to crawl back to bed
Well, i still do
But less than i used to
I actually want to get up and do things

I have the want to do things
I didn't before
Except the occasional poem or drawing
I didn't want to work, but i had to
I didn't want to smile, but i forced myself too

I have the want to smile
I'm smiling as i write this
I want to dance, i want to sing
I want to be alive
For the first time in a long time

I'm finally okay enough to say
"I'm okay"
and actually mean it

I want to dream
of fresh, green fields
Wildflowers, sweet and heady
Tickling the end of my nose
As I stare out at blue skies
And feel the warmth of the sun
On my face as my eyes shut.
I want to dream
Of laughter and stories
Surrounded by love and light
A face that aches from smiling
and cheeks that are tinged pink
My glass always half full.
I want to dream
I feel it as a longing
Deep inside me, rising and falling
Like waves.
I want to dream
And feel it fill me up
Complete me and fix where
I have broken and frayed.
I want to dream
And have it come true.

My Solace

when every aperture is a tunnel narrowing,
a light pin diminishing when nearing,

when the desk drawer yields up unused theater tickets,
for performances concluded yesterday,

when the denouement is nothing new but worse,
revealed in the coming attractions trailer,

when the rusted unborn poem notion is almost done,
but remains unpublished,
for no beginning, no title, can be found,

Then I recall the cornucopia days,
when poems spilled forth like
there would never be a when they wouldn't,

I revisit my old friends, couplets, twins and triplets,
seeded inside every tear, happy or sad,
sweetly and freely,

my old friends, reread,
words rearranged in new combinations,
old poems, plants bearing new fruits,
re-titled all of them, one name,
a collection entitled,
My Solace.

Like a warm breath of air
He hovers in my memory
No superman, a meek soul
Not one to squander his time
But one who worked day in and out
To feed those
Whom he loved and sired
What was he?
A teacher, a farmer or an artist

I cannot say precisely...
All I can say;
He was each of these
Rolled into one

On holidays I saw him
Shut in the loft
a brush in hand
His fingers moving over the canvas
The steaming tea by his side
Untouched and getting cold as ice
Unmindful of everything around
He sat by the easel in the attic
Focussed only on the strokes that fell

When a distinct image shoots out
As the moon from behind clouds
A wave of satisfaction would gleam
Across his face,
His frantic nerves at once hushed
Bearing the look of one
Who, in an instant, conquered kingdoms

He would view it from different angles
Never seeking anyone’s opinion
But gloating if he saw
Our admiring eyes fell on it

Being artistically inclined
He lived more in the world of art

But gradually things changed
To his fright, he found his hands shaky
And the lines on the canvas
Going tremulous and disjointed
Couldn’t hold a brush!

On diagnosed of Parkinson’s disease
His world abruptly lost its sheen
He saw the disease weeding
Its way into his life
Suddenly grown old
He lost interest in everything
We saw him sitting in his armchair
So immobile, for hours on end
His eyes stretched to a far horizon

We displayed before him
Paintings once born of his imagination
To see if his world would brighten
And it worked!

Recently, in one of my dreams
I saw him sitting at the foot of Michael Angelo
To learn the art, he couldn’t perfect
In his life time!

i used to have butterflies,
now i dont.
i now have hummingbirds,
since they flap quicker.

her kindness, her love,
has begun to show its mark.
the roots have grown in my heart,
millions of hummingbirds, when i see her.

who knew? that there can also be hummingbirds?
they bundle the most, when she provides her kindest words.