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Juhi Dec 2019
At least under influence
The strained sky doesn’t rain
As much anymore, plaid shirts
Sticking to the empty walls
Sundry fabrics staining the
Disgustingly beige paint
And hands brought up
As if to faint? The struggle

To rip the shirts off the walls
And make the sundry fabrics
Less sundry; the struggle,
To watch the sun go down
And bring the sky with it -
It overcomes me, it fulfills me,

It gives me a purpose
That fits like a square block
In the absence of any holes
Busies my hands with new blood
The next ****** victim being my
Unrelinquished boredom
And the next pain I will relish in:
My endless hyper fixations.
Juhi Nov 2019
all this blackness and sticky fear
until my sides wear thin and I
feel nothing more than a paltry
whisper of something near and dear
until the skies implode, I feel
nothing and everything, until
all that is clear is cloudy

and then each walk and promenade
reveals itself
and while old and withered
amongst the banks
of the Seine: and while a book rustles
and the children play,
a future stretched out in front of me
cat like, limbs akimbo

I want peace
and I want no part in this
anymore - what's the point?
there's a point, I assure myself
and then I stretch thin again
and start back at square one
with a plastic body and a head
full of too many odds and ends
and no thread to pull it all together
Juhi Nov 2019
you know
until the world turns over
flipping like the coin it is
and what was once done
becomes undone
I think I won't ever forget
the chance I missed
and the useless errands
I would run

I think
that my place in the universe
is convoluted - just what do I
want to get done?
will I ever
balance with the disorder
and become a part
of the sum?

I might
float endlessly, a large
speck of dust immobile
held suspended
by the fear of the unknown
I might never find
peace or normalcy
but I don't know what those
feel like
(and hence,
nothing lost or found)

be lost,
is what they say
and then find your way
amongst all strange things
and amid all the oddities
suspended agape
in fear and all its commonalities
Juhi Oct 2019
bow
the limit to what I say
around and when I lay
in what seems like
my seventh grave; I have
many lives
to keep, and many scores
over which I weep
until each music note
becomes one elongated scream
pulled out piano wires
baring guts like a burst seam
whiling away time as if
this is the eighth dream:
each sonder and sundry
under the tips of my fingers, god is

just out of reach, six armed swordsman
feet, sixth life just spent and beat
as if I require murderous intent, to be
a swordsman, like god
omnipresent lines(I see them!) and then
vocation slipping between my
rigid fingers: when will
my time finally come? and when
will god slow down for this
mere mortal? it seems that
only time will tell
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V6gjzNm6dA0&list=PLbvwXNSWi_XhQoCboOeBY1-57b5aMAVKj&index=12&t=0s
Juhi Oct 2019
fin
swim seams in cluttered
dreams, god in between
the light beams - no space
unkept by him, full to the
edges of the fabric
a carefully calculated scream
manipulated daydreams

all the bars are full at ten
past or before ten, sloshed
clocks, someone spiked
the punch again
("aren't we in a bar?")
I thought we left this place
a long time ago, but it's ten past ten

trying to remove a face
from a head, failing miserably
it's such a mess
the subject of my adorations
because I made too much of a mess
switching my own face in the progress
(I felt too mean
to leave him with nothing)
(and now, it seems,
I've been left with nothing)

I won't even see him again?
ten past ten, only in my delusions
do I think I can
warp ten past ten
to ten past nothing

it seems that
I want everything, god
I want everything
Juhi Sep 2019
yes
yes
at times I do agree
to the things you say
about you and me - at times
I agree
until nothing at all
comes undone
knots having been burnt
by the zany boiling suns

at times I think
that each word crawling
underneath the seams
is worth eating
and each promise I steal
tastes like melting butter
and steel beams

at times the iron
builds up in my core
and I can divulge no more
at times, there is no time
because
for some reason
you control my reality as a whole
and when my world starts to crumble
you simply press reset
so things go back to the old way
where I would agree with you,
again and again
Juhi Sep 2019
I can get away with anything at all
with just a purse of lips
and then something happens
to the people around me:
I cause mass extinction
of morality, black and deep cracks
breaking society's porcelain skin
shower curtain face split open
and veiny, fabric hearts
separating like liquorice strings
when I disassemble people
I can feel their golden
odd little hearts
in my hands
and when the time comes again
it makes me slightly more glad
to hold something broken
that is meant to last
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