He used to eat them up, wives that is -
sweet, delicate things who gave him
their hearts, three in all over the dark years,
destined sooner or later to look deep
into his black eyes and know the desolation
they offered, to begin comprehending
the cold chasm of pain to which their
innocence and credulity had brought them.

Today two of the former wives stood
an appropriate distance from his grave
and the milling stand of mourners,
immediate family to be sure, and those
who tried but could find nothing else
to do on this blustery day. The ex-wives
each scooped a handful of damp earth
and threw it with spiteful satisfaction
into the gaping mouth of his grave.
"Eat that", one was heard to say.

--

I understand what your saying
But can it be said in a way that's less

Complacent?
Condescending?
Our points are adjacent.
Maybe that's what isn't comprehending.
Fractured views mending.
See, our argument is nascent
to a conversation. Instead of descending,
we're inventing unrelenting patience
with our ideals.

we were small children when we grew up

wishing our parents would talk to us about the beloved Constitution,
not at us
wishing our parents would decide to quietly invite themselves
into our ideas, questions, our favorite novels
instead of constantly quoting their own favorite parts of The Bible
instead of complaining so fervently about Islam and poor people

wishing instead of asking
scrambling instead of composing
Do you remember anything?
You were small, and barely talking
But always laughing with me, listening
pointing and nodding

we were orphaned for 3 months as toddler and tiny girl,
while they were mobilizing in Saudi Arabia,
we were stuck with a violent guardian from the family, and I remember
her biting my arm, and pushing her chair
onto mine to crush my fingers when she was mad, and I remember
mom screaming at her over the phone when she found out, and I remember
she loved to kick our dog and sleep in their bed and I remember
deciding to say nothing when I saw this
and how she never saw me watching, the narcissist that she was.

so by age 5 my parents now knew that I was certainly old enough to pay close attention
and when mom and dad were deployed to Egypt for 9 months and 6 months, respectively,
they orchestrated a sequence of 3 live-in sitters trading off every 2 weeks, periodically,
we were stuck in a cyclical round of stuffy, busy au pairs
and I was the host
and I kissed dad's picture because he would call us almost every day
and mom would not
yet it was her I remembered the most
yet it was dad that you actually forgot

When we had them back I realized
I wanted to forget him, too, sometimes.
I hated worrying about them. I remember when I was 7 and our dog died
His heart was so debilitated for months.
Soon after he was able to fling our replacement puppies
in a fit of rage, just once
He retired first, that year, while mom was shipped off to Kuwait
Soon we found out he had no friends, she was his only mate
We felt sorry for him
We ate tv dinners every day and night for 6 months
And although I do have small handfuls of memories
with his hands suddenly on my throat and me on my knees
They always end with him apologizing and sobbing
And me, unscathed but shaken, glowing but glaring

by ages 8 and 10
we were reciting the bill of rights and criticizing welfare
but still could never understand ?
competition or war or cosmetics or long hair

I would always march, I felt like a boy and a girl
and also felt like neither one, I would always twirl
I was taught early on that accomplishments
are more
valuable and profitable of an experience
than forming,
with no meaning, such fleeting relationships

I've ending up simply not comprehending courtship
I might be a light, empty holster that you cannot equip.
I've never sensed the fond feeling of an honest liaison
Except at funerals where I'm free to imagine my own expiration

there are those of us who found kindness by insight
while we were taught to play the offense and be glad to fight
Yet intuitively we knew this aggression has a cost
so we harbored it within our frontal lobes, where we became lost
Some of us have been fighting demons since
our own hearts could breathe and our own eyes could rinse,
And the real reasons we did bad things
were simply too boring, too excruciating

these children fear, then assume, their best friend won't want to play
having discovered that having daydreams may be impending dismay
these are all the people who I haven't ever gotten to greet
they echo my certainties that there are other stories to meet

we were children who always imagined being a squib
keeping faith that wizards and wands were real
they'd take us away from this place to another glib
world of feasts and friends
A house consistently without parents, a house in which we could heal

I am surely not an artist,
For I can’t paint or draw,
Nor am I a singer,
I sound far from clean and raw.
Geometry is not fun to me,
For I dislike angles and sides,
I will never be an accountant,
Or a phenomenal  surfer,
The fear of high waves and tides.
I will not be a chef,
I can’t cook to perfection for a meal,
I can’t jazz dance well,
Failure, I feel.
I am no cartoonist,
I never and will never take drugs,
Vile and grotesque suits them,
I’ve never smoked or drank,
Or put salt on slugs.
I don’t like breakfast,
I loathe being sick,
I dislike unfriendly people,
I am not fond of waking up early,
I don’t like reading long novels,
Nor comprehending difficult ones;
I hate poetry that doesn’t rhyme,
It puts pressure on me, tons.
I am not greedy,
I am not self/centered,
Success if far from what I feel,
This is negativity I’ve now entered.
This is not me,
This will never be me,
I am myself and nothing more,
I am different, as you see.

Deny it you might.
Except the truth stands out.
There will always be a mistress because some loves that role.

Someone fulfilling your pleasures as you fulfill theirs.
Yes, that's just the way it is.
Deny it you might.

There always be a racist with some point of view.
Some won't face the truth because the truth hurts to see.
That the race you speak negative about is now able to compete in achieving that American dreams.

Although that all men are created equal wasn't nothing but written words.
Because laws was created to hinder some men and and of course women.

Realize this.
We always be surrounded by fools that makes the wrong choice.
To be fooled once, we all can understand.
But multiple times, then we all begins to wonder.

There always a prisoner, as long , as there area profited crime.
We see them comes from all areas of life many of times.
Realize this.
These aren't just simple written words.

There always be a false prophet leading God's words.
And hard a sit might be to believe in society.
They still pushing forth His words to be heard.
We just need to seek, search to truly get God's message.

Realize truth and realize this.
There are more saints acting the sinner's role.
And like many honorable ministers they even get exposed.

Realize this ,more than any other thing.
There always be love to guide us and win out over hate.
Yes, the truth hurts.
Except comprehending it leads to kindness.

comprehending it for the first time, struck
numb and wretched. uncomprehending
shivers rib joy with age--
agendas churn
even as a salty dryness barely clears--
eyes contort in livid forms of love

vacant carols fail to mute calamity,
though once a bluebird sang at snow
abstracted from the core-- fly away
from a season's playlist monoculture,
reinvent this home, audacious now
to be a courage happiness
for youthful eyes no longer simply young

musing on pondering,

cogitating on ruminating,

postulating on speculating,

considering multiple theories,

deeming the discrepancies deniable

positing the petty presumptions,

theorizing multiple condsiderations,

apraising the mediations,

digesting the deliberation,

allowing for  freefall meditation,

envisioning the expectations,

presuming the pontifications,

anticipating the asumptions,

comprehending the conclusion,

accrediting the rationalizations,

concluding the comprehesion,

spinning synaptic wheels,

hypothesizing the conjecture,

recollecting of the reminiscence,

adumbrating the prognostigcation,

concocting of the subliminate,

masticating on the cereberal machinations, of the ocillations,
in the agitatation, apparent in insomniac's maniacal  brain,

reckoning not,
                   on the simple summation,
of the  night's  wayward,
                       mental arbitratration,
i have way too much time
                                          to think...

To concretize my theorized love,
I could play the accidental odds and strew
slippery tongues of spotted petals
onto thickly trafficked highways,
or use the best predictive modelling
to deduce when and where I can poke out
a well-heeled boot to trick unwary spills
and ****** a kiss from the unsuspecting
lips of any suitably compatible
passerby oft times inconvenienced and passed
on by.

These well-oiled and crudely experimental
methods do produce expected results,
but not the breakthrough nor the looked-for
satisfaction of appropriate reactions,
so I'll keep my dotted eyes tucked in
their pulpy stems and my shoddy toes curled back
while I beam my bits of invitation through
circuitous routes spatially arrayed along
parallel paths where one might search
with an extra-terrestrial inventiveness,
and wait.

I know the trials of these errant waves
won't add up to a guarantee
my burpy blips of a pulse can reach
the receptively comprehending and responsive
soils I seek, but it's the remoteness of a stead
to come stalking that appeals, and despite
the Hawking drone of unveiled warnings
I might regret such contact, I'll risk it all
on vaguely washed wishes this astronomical
anomaly with an alien sensibility has
one match.

it’s a pen of bulls in your stomach
the wonder, the not-knowing, the what-ifs, whens coulds and might-bes
the numbers on an oxygen tank dwindling down

too many thoughts becoming their own creatures,
tearing down cities that we carry inside

it’s leaves shivering from an island wind,
the people running away from shore

that moment when you slip on ice and you don’t know if you’ll catch yourself

it’s dying, not knowing where you’ll go
and space, not comprehending how vast

counting all the possibilities in the universe and only thinking
about the most horrific ones
some of us always live in worst case scenarios
and i,
have not yet mastered the art of surviving them.

We place more burden upon ourselves.
We places plenty upon him.
Without comprehending he deals with more.
Cause he doesn't place anything in your life that you can't handle.

We panic.
We stress.
We complain.
We confess.
But the burden doesn't fade.

With rationality, we realize things aren't as bad as they seem.

Burden just's apart of life's things.

He listen.
He guides.
He's the best counselor of depression to be by your side.

I hoped to see you at least once
before you left-
behind the sixth lane,
walls of which still have hand-prints
that we made as kids;
under the sign board
which read something in French,
meant something that
our inexperienced hearts are
still incapable of comprehending;
or maybe, under the staircase-
beside the empty cartons
where we promised
to make our own little house,
someday.

I listened to you,
ranting about your day;
who made you smile;
whether you believed in magic;
what your muse was,
silently,
watching words bounce off
the edge of your lips,
your pupils dilate
when you said the word “Love”.

I stole memories of you
from the pinch of your cheek,
the tip of your nose,
your eyelids,
which would twitch
at an external touch
until the warmth of my fingertips
blended with your skin.

You would laugh
about something that
had happened months ago-
the echoes of which still keep me going for days-
I would just sit back
and mentally make notes
about how hard
my heart pounded against my ribcage
every time you breathed heavier
to compensate for the ones you skipped.

You hair would fall on your face,
you would push them back
without a pause while,
I would be looking at your hands.
I love how
your hands look under the sun,
the soft curves;
how each crease
on your palm discloses secrets about you
which was why you always walked
with your hand knotted in fists;
the freckles on its back –
how it could be woven into constellations
with names of your distant lovers
carved on your pale wrists.


I write about you-
carefully picking up words
that describe my whims,
decorating the corners of letters,
choosing to draw hearts
in the tittles of I’s,
imitating the curve of your smile
in my Y’s-
and when I think
that words are not enough
to tell you how much
you mean to me,
I smudge a range
of contrasting colors
on a fresh canvas
till it fills up the space inside my nails,
smears on my face
and spoils my favorite white dress;
you are a beautiful mess.

The sky reminds me of you.
And feathers too.
So, stuff them in my empty pockets
on my way from work until,
I have a feeling
that one more to them
would make me fly.
I wish I could fly to you;
you’re so far;
my words don’t affect you,
and the dust that has
settled between us
doesn't let me see you, any more.


And I am not ready
to let your memories
become the dead flowers-
pressed between
the yellow pages of a book;
a rusted twig in an abandoned nest.
So, I’ll wait for you
by the broken window,
stained drapes,
until you make your way
back home.

There's a difference between listening and hearing!!!!
When a man just hears you, he sometimes will look at you sometimes not, but either way he could be looking at you yet just hearing the words coming from your mouth, yet not comprehending the things that you tell him, and not being able to come back with an answer to your question, or a comment to your fact... When you ask him something when your finished talking he just sais huh?

Hearing is when one will make eye contact with you, being able to comprehend all that you say, and being able to give an answer to your question, or an answer to your statement or fact...comprehending all that you say...

There's a difference between listening and hearing, something men and not just men but women do to,

A little hint for some ...():
This would be helpful to you men who pay ATTN to thine own t.v and not the queen and love sitting right next to you, for you must remember, tomorrow may not always come!!!show thy queen your love brother!!!
And women, same goes/to/you.. You have a king who adores you next to you treat him as such, and If you dont have one. Find one who will listen!!! Not just hear you...
Thanks for reading!!

Chomsky is a bit too pessimistic for my taste,
and it's strange to me how a Linguist does not believe in connectivity;
for, communication is connectivity;
every word connects to another
to form an idea, or a purpose.

Astrology has been around far longer than Astronomy,
and yet, people throw it aside as voodoo...
People saw these unseen forces and connections
long before they saw the connections within Science or Mathematics.
Trust and Love don't have a definite formula which we can see,
but they happen at a certain Time and Place.
If you believe in Karma at all, you know:
Nothing is a coincidence.

When you do something Good,
you put Positive energy out into the world,
and it is much more likely to come back to you
than Negative energy,
But these changes occur so rapidly and unseen,
that we have no way of comprehending their formula.
Each Negative action could be counteracted with a Positive,
and Vise Versa.
We look at Nature's mutations and call them Imperfect,
but that is just our idea of Perfection that we have created.
We expect things to go systematically, like Chomsky says,
we see things in forms of Machines.

But even in Machines, there are Mutations and/or Imperfections.
These are not Mutations at all, or Imperfections. These are just another part of the System, created by Nature.
We expect Nature to be: ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta;
not: ta-ta-lalalalala-ta-ta,
and so, when this happens, we call it a Mutation,
yet it keeps happening throughout Nature and Time.
Even the machines that we create, do this very same thing.
Even our DNA. Even Language.
All these things happen from Connections...
with others, with ourselves, with people we've never met,
with objects, with animals, with our bodies, with thoughts and feelings...
This all comes back to what we call "Karma".

It is hard for me to believe that there is not an unseen force or
Higher Power;
when I say this, I don't necessarily mean God or Heaven or Hell,
or anything religious at all; these are just terms in which
we describe the same things differently.
I do not believe in a Higher Power because I want to go to heaven,
or because I want my parents to be happy after Death.
I believe there is a Higher Power,
because there is proof all around us...

The cells inside our body have no idea why they do their job each day,
kind of like us Humans,
yet we go on living the way we do, performing the tasks
that we're meant to perform.
You could argue that cells don't have a conscious,
or that animals don't, for that matter,
so they have no way of thinking about or comprehending
Life.

But I believe the opposite.
There is no way for us to shrink down and understand
the way that each organism lives,
but it does live.
All things are equal, and though smaller organisms may not grasp
what we grasp;
We may not grasp, what other organisms in the Universe grasp.
Cells and organs live inside of our bodies:
As we live inside of Earth;
It is hard for us to know what is Beyond that.

One thing I know for sure,
depending on your definition of "Reason",
we do live for a reason,
just as the cells in our bodies live to keep us Alive.
Is it possible we are keeping something bigger than us
Alive?

It may not matter to us, since it is an unseen Force,
but the force is certainly there,
which leaves the Explanatory Gap between Science
and the Mind, and Action.
It is there. It is happening. We cannot explain it.
Maybe we never will, so as Chomsky says,
"We live, then turn to dust, and that is all we are."
But that is just a way of looking at things,
like saying the glass is half empty.
I like to think mine is half Full.

If everything did not Connect,
we would not do things for others,
we would not work,
we would not talk,
we would not be human,
we would be Nothing, as we know it.

So, yes, I believe all is connected.
I believe there is no such thing as coincidence.
I believe Mutation and Chaos are an equal part of Nature,
and they represent a Pattern so vast,
which supports a much, much larger Equation to Life
than we can understand Now.
This, I believe.

Descending kind of flight
Of thought
Associated free
Comprehending blind of sight
We sought
Delay of anomie
Pretending find the right
Forgot that
Which we can't agree
Defending lined the fight
That bought
Every hidden fee

i. you are at once absent and present

mourning dew on tobacco leaves
transgressive pleasure simultaneously
deluding and eluding me
i remain an equation incapable
of comprehending infinity

tantalizing fantasies splashed
like water across a stovetop
simmering on contact before evaporating
with my unconscious thoughts
trapped within half-forgotten dreams
restless in unending nightmares

a cosmic drift of psychological
rifts in a psyche sundered by
the fault-line ruptures
of cognitive dissonance earthquakes

there's no stitching up
the severed seams
or recovering the effervescence
of innocence lost in our ascent to a rooftop
to treat with bliss in the midst
of the moon's ambivalence

ii. you are at once absent and present

i thought the stars danced for only us
that you put them in the sky
so i could study nebulae
with the same five senses
i'd use to explore you

the stars looked on
voyeurs surveying
the crush of our bodies
listening to the rush of lust
leaking past flesh flushed
with explicit elixirs

we found the philosopher's stone
became ageless in those moments
drunk on alchemical toxins
poisoning our blood-streams
souring the precious draught  
of friendship we'd cherished
for half a decade

the taste of your alcohol-breath
still taints my tongue
lungs billowing like corpses
pierced by carrion
a larynx choked with regret
while you smoke your cigarettes
incapable of going back
yet returning
ad infinitum

iii. you are at once absent and present

Fascinating how we can live
Holding on tightly to the past
If our memories serve us well
Perhaps it profits us to make them last
Memories of love and laughter
Some of tragedies and fear
All collected by our senses
The things we see, feel and hear
Driven by a common motivation
We seek relationships unending
The love of parents for their children
Is far beyond comprehending
And so the joy we share today
Shall I keep forevermore
But the memories I have of you
Are the ones I most adore

Analyze yourself.
Truly do this.
It will work.
If you want it too.

Write upon a piece a paper,
what bothering you?
Don't react upon it.
Just examine it.
And approach it with honesty and truth.

Love.
Analyze yourself?
And the way you handle it.
If upset.
Get a pillow and yell into it.
It calm you down.
As you release your frustration with it.

We move on haste and emotion.
Without comprehending the consequences might be hard to recover from.

So, analyze yourself.
It's like thinking before you speak.
Your action determine the repucussions to come.

Your lies in your eyes as you sit and realize. What a mistake was made when you threw it all away. Don’t you feel upset when you think of that day, when you brought yourself to one knee 2 months after May. Wasn’t it sickening when you said those words that ended it all in a rushed fashion. Turning your cheek and completely leaving, empty handed. Running from what you were afraid of, and leaving me abandoned. How could you just cut me off, and never speak to me again? Like I’m a ghost in your past. A ghost in your closet, grey and black. How could you do this simple deed and leave me on the side of the road to bleed. As if I meant nothing to you in your life, you were willing to toss it away. Trash, never treasure, that’s what I hear you say. I loved you to the very end, no matter what I constantly would bend. Maxing out my credit and taking out a loan so that you would never have to be alone. Not only that but I pushed all aside, in school and family and in friends, so that I could abide. With you, I would feel you were my soulmate and now knowing you could easily sever my tether, I wonder if my worth was ever so great. I based my reality on this dream of us, being together and never having to fuss. And yet, we talked about how we never fought and when we finally did we saw what it brought; Pain and suffering to a relationship too perfect it seemed, how could we have been so stupid to think it would always gleam. In the light, we saw some true colors of each other, but I think those bad things are not enough to make us hate one another. Could you please just look once more at our photos together and see those smiles and know it was worth while. That we were not meant for a separation such as this, and this emptiness we feel is nothing like our kiss. All I can recall from our moments together is all the beautiful times and the beautiful weather. Positives outweigh negatives that’s what I’ve always said. I even told you with that other guy that’s how I felt, and now I’m telling you here. Out of our two years together, this was only the second major fire and I really cannot fathom why the building came crashing down so quickly. We have our faults and I definitely know I have mine. But I can’t help but think that there is some sort of line. Did I cross it? Yes indeed, but I couldn’t help it when I felt threatened and helpless. Misunderstanding your words and feeling attacked…when in reality you were just fighting back. A never ending circle that could have been stopped if we had both just calmed down and talked for a spot. Like cool headed adults that we really are and not impassioned children that we became. I really feel like we could have retained all of this anger and sadness. I really do. I really feel we could repair it if we just started with a bit of glue. Glue of compassion and glue of understanding. Glue of love and comprehending. Darling, you made my world worth while. You made it all ok. And that was the happiest moment those two months after May. To see it all shatter, right before my eyes. I can’t even believe it, I feel as if my soul has died. So please, I urge you to look once more. Make a list if you must, but look again into the dust. See our relationship as a whole painting and no just the smattering of ink upon a dim page. Look at the positives. Look at the beauty. For I see it and I know that we are more than our mistakes. More than our flaws. I know that I am more than what you saw. Forgiveness is a key part of any relationship, friend or lover. So please, do you have it in your heart to take the blemish and cover? It would be the best day of my life in these past weeks, if I could just call you up and not have to weep. What joy I would be brought to have that person back, who I met between the romantic buildings of Europe. What joy I would be brought to have the person back, who kept me upright in the snow. What joy I would be brought to have that person back, who kissed my tear stained cheeks and held me so close.
Look back, darling. Look back into the past. Look at the picture as a whole. Don’t you wish the same things? Don’t you want to restart? Refresh? Renew?
I know that I do.

It breaks like waves against the cranium
Again and again the syncopated beat of my heart
Is it magic? Is it a miracle?
Is there madness behind such a glowing word?
Ramblings of a madman, I'd rather me insane than comprehending extreme sanity.
What sanity is there in a world that holds no bounds?
What gods can there be when man in turn becomes his own god?
I have no answers, I am all but questions.

Urgent and bursting, it is a sweet fruit that ripens until juice trickles out,
Turgid and thick, quivering and throbbing like breath itself,
Not solid or liquid but a state inbetwixt.

Maybe this is mania, maybe this is something above what I am?
Who am I if not for my breath and my breaking?
It is the gaps that make the solid thing whole.

I hold a heart in my hands--
mine or yours, it hardly matters.
It's a cup of sweet pain--
sweet because it contains
a new world in each
potential swirling drop.
Sweet because we
can taste each world.
And the pain is just
a sharpening, in this moment,
of memories-- of our longing
for this new world-- for birth--
to take what is now real, but hidden,
and let it ripple and be unveiled--
this world hidden in our hearts,
too big, it aches because
it is ready, pressing against
its hidden containment--
we may not hold it in too long--

Life carries on with its own force,
seen or unseen, the new world emerges
in love from the old, warm and slowly scarred--
one new and ripe with life and will,
the other worn and wise, ready
to go quiet--where it will vanish,
covered and concealed, dissolved
then secretly congealed, gathering a secret pulse
and vibrant eye, to once again--for the first time
in all of time--emerge and be revealed--

Our hearts seem like vessels
but they are constantly transforming from old to new,
from hidden to emergent to present. We have
no one heart,
yours or mine, it hardly matters,
but a constant, murmuring emergence,
an ever exploring meaning.
Here in our heart
a spring rises from its endless roots
and meets the air of our awareness--
rippling, shining, silently singing.

Let our hands and eyes be midwives, then,
when needed.
We can ease these transformations
with a little understanding.
Let our eyes and hands
love the hidden heart
and guide its travels
for we are hearts and more,
wide minds, capable, some times,
of comprehending--peacefully--
the sometimes searing
duality
and finding in its balance
a way to, briefly,
crucially,
meet its blade
with peace--
to use the energy of dissolving
and the energy of emerging
simultaneously
to transform
one more
moment.

Thick, hot carelessness
The air ripped from my chest
Sticky with disappointment
This is only for the best
As you gracefully gloss over
My lingering words which only ever
Try to hold such meaning
Seemingly to myself
This ongoing drought
Void of all emotion
I have little doubt
Of comprehending notions
With heart in hand I walk away
Painfully forcing every step
I don't look back because I know
This is only for the best.

The tapping
and rapping
of which you believe to be rain
striking your glass
belongs not to nature
but of the rocks which
my hands hurl

Drowning in rain
and thoughts of you
driving me
placing me
a few feet below you
as you dream

the shouting of mine
is lost in the whirling,
whipping rain and thunder

pronouncing and proclaiming
true feelings
i somehow seem weightless
under the window
which i hope to glimpse your face

but... asleep you stay
comfortable under sheets and covers
with eyelids tightly sealed
dreaming away
white noise the only thing
your ears pick up

After hours of waiting
throwing and screaming
i quit
not wishing to awake the unwanted
i leave a simple note
tied round your mailbox
and let the rain
push my head farther into sorrow

walking away
not even comprehending
the fact
that the same rain that
drenches me and,
falls on your window
is blurring the ink
of which i confessed

truly and completely
i love you

at the age of
abandon,
giggles,
sunshine,
and flowers,
I only knew
endless sunrises.

at the age of
finally comprehending,
first crushes,
empty playgrounds,
and responsibility,
I learned that there
was more to just being
right and wrong.

at the age of
self-loathing,
confusion,
conformity,
and fear,
I learned what
was worth waking up for.

I am surely not an artist,
For I can't paint or draw,
Nor am I a singer,
I sound far from raw.
Geometry is not fun to me,
For I dislike angels and sides,
I will never be a professional surfer,
My fear of high waves and tides.
I will never be a chef,
I can't cook a meal,
I can't jazz dance,
I hate the color teal.
I am no acrobat,
I never took drugs,
I've never smoked or drank,
Or put salt on slugs.
I don't like a big breakfast,
I loathe being sick,
I dislike unfriendly people,
I watch every clock-tic.
I don't like reading long novels,
Nor comprehending difficult ones,
I hate poetry that doesn't rhyme,
It puts great presuure on me; tons.
I am not greedy.
I am not self-centered,
Success id far from what I feel,
This is anxiety, I've now entered.
This is not me,
This will never be me,
I am myself and nothing more,
I am different, as you see.

they say that everything around us,
all the beautiful things –

the dainty flowers that scatter the earth,
the light of the sun crashing against tall trees,
the mysteries of the depth of the ocean,
the soft hum of the strong wind,
the stars that are so surreal that
I still have a hard time comprehending
how something so magnificent could possibly exist
in the very universe I am in–

are created by one god

but when i look at you,
i just stop and think

****,
a million gods must have made you

Every time I gaze upon you,
The sun rises and my heart starts.
Turning the ignition, ready to roll
Blazing down the road after you,
Knowing I cannot keep up with you.
But my mind stays on you
Every second thinks of you.

Yet when the clouds take the sunshine away
I feel hurt, unloved, and alone.
Deprived of this photosynthetic warmth
And ripped into the clutches of depression.
When the eclipse is done, I'm relieved.
I see my sunshine who teaches me much
About the love I pursue every day.

You've become a living segment of me,
Providing life force for survival or my heart.
The very single love you radiate
Warms me to think of you time and time again.
But if you ever fade from the skies,
I'll lose my warmth and be struck down.
The the death spawning frozen hell of sadness.

Then I lose sight of you until time.
I stop and wait for you again, hoping,
That I picked the right star to chase,
Before I never knew what I was chasing,
Or why I could never stop looking for you.
Now I know you and your brilliant radiance
Comprehending to never give way.

Chapter 1 – The new kid

It was 8 in the morning; Vaani was already late for school meanwhile mom couldn’t resist making her gallop that whole glass of milk. She couldn’t help it, “ Why do we need this now when I should be chatting with my buddies in class!?” She let out an exasperated argument while holding the hot steel glass. Swallowing it in half a millisecond, she politely ordered dad to drive her to school. The weather wasn’t any different from the day before, however there was this strange shade of dark blue which let itself spread all over the town. The sky was unusually favorable and was worth staring at. Approaching the school building, dad gave a quick reality check and she instantly shifted from her unusually-aesthetic-blue-ceiling dimension. “Thank you, Lord Shiva!”, she expressed her gratefulness to one of the Hindu holy trinity for helping her reach on time. The ultrasonic giggles and chatters in the corridors were the evidences that prayer hasn’t begun till now. After the prayer, quite in resemblance with the daily chores at home, all of them arranged their tables and non-expectantly waited for Ms Prerna. Ms Prerna is the head of the English department in school, the fact that English is a subject taken least seriously by the students is something that she’s not completely oblivious of. They have no Brutus-Caesar business with her, but on the contrary, they do detest beginning their mornings with an hour learning a language they never learnt in class. Ms Prerna stormed into the classroom with an energetic vibe, a clear indication of a 10-minute extension of the lesson. Comme d’habitude, everyone sang out their good mornings in a rhythmic symphony. However, it wasn’t just them alone contributing to the morning paradigm. A throaty and electrifying voice like the arrival of tsunami yet humble and calm like the low waves at the evening beach could be heard with utmost clarity. Ms Prerna furrowed, consequently her wrinkles drowned into the corner of her lips to curve a smile. “I see we’ve got a new kid in class today!”, she rejoiced the arrival of the mysterious voice, and as a part of the necessary tradition, she asked him to come out and introduce himself . Vaani was curious at top of her senses to witness the physicality of the hoarse sound waves meanwhile, the husky lad came out of his chair, the long and heavy strides he took were attributing to his tall stature, as he came in close proximity, one could experience the delicious odor of the seven seas. It almost felt as if all the water bodies reincarnated as a male progeny. He turned. Towering young lad, whiten-hued with a light swarthy shade. Covered in the translucent sheets of skin, his veins ran up and down and finally converged at his wrist. Physique so lithe and muscular, one could substantiate that he wouldn’t have even heard about unhealthy junk. Clean shaven with a downward slanting jaw, lips fixed like a warrior’s bow, stable and subtle. Short hair but every bit uprising. Then, he raised his gaze, stark blue eyes violent enough to execute someone but at the same time, comforting and intoxicant enough to rejuvenate every being. Invoking an obedient smile, he set forth his introduction, “Good Morning Ms Prerna! I’m Neel Samudravanshi and I’m quite excited to be a part of this class.” Neel Samudravanshi, (literally – Blue Descendant of the Ocean). Every bit of his name was associated perfectly with his personality! “A very good morning to you too Neel! I hope you find the environment of the class comfortable and welcoming. I see you’re planning on taking seats with Akaash, he's one of the most diligent boys and I’m sure you won’t face any difficulties adjusting here as long as he can guide you. I’m pleased to welcome you! Please take your seat child.”, the very traditional paradigm of bragging the hospitality was yet again fulfilled by Ms Prerna, but this time she seemed to be reflecting unnecessary geniality. It appeared as if she was saying those diabetic utterances out of some sort of devotion. There was something peculiar about him, something very obscure. Obviously, he was no Derek Hale from Teen Wolf, nevertheless there lied an inexplicable enigma in his eyes. The clock kept ticking with increasing intensity, or maybe it was the sound of Vaani’s impatient disposition desperately waiting for the clock hand to stand ***** at 9:10. At 9:05, she was quite edgy, however, just out of insignificant curiosity, she glanced over at Neel, “How the hell can he be so much involved in this sadistic lecture?”, she murmured to herself constantly scrutinizing the mindfulness of the new lad. The bell rang, one could hear a great reverberation of amalgamated relieving sighs, after all, they weren’t the biggest fans of the subject. The consecutive periods were in this order, maths, maths, chemistry and sports. The school administration was thoughtful enough to award them with a 10-min break after the highly endearing first period and as usual, all the boys and girls gathered around their preferable tables along with their preferable humans, commonly known as “friends”, this is exactly where the purpose of uniforms and identity cards fails. A short span of pause is sufficient enough to cleave the pretentious union into numerous tribes of four or five. Vaani was one of the most desired and voguish girls of the school and yet the humblest darling anyone could ever run into, however today, she incorporated a great amount of inquisitiveness in her actions. Partly rejoicing the short break with her school-oriented social circle and partly switching sight over to the common point of interest, she felt distracted. Meanwhile all this short gala, Neel seemed comfortably addicted to his assigned place in the classroom, motionless, eyes subtly penetrating the mid-point of the rectangular board, face spewing a burning backscattering confident look. Amidst all this, Akaash patted him gently on his back and made a generous effort in transmitting the complicated art of socializing, “ Hey Buddy! I know it’s your first day and it truly ***** to be around a group of total strangers for this long, but you’ve got to get up and interact with them. Judging your taste, the he’s aren’t worth it but the she’s are so totally worth running into!”, Akaash exclaimed with a formal and lame laugh, he definitely was one of the studious and academically extraordinary kids however, that didn’t turn him into a total nerd who spends 2 minutes stammering out of 3 while having a conversation with a person of the opposite gender. To reciprocate some generosity and acknowledgement, Neel finally called it a day on making love to his desk and his eyes weren’t tormenting that mid-point anymore, “ Whom are we starting off with, the he’s or the she’s?”, he asked, by putting on a charming smirk to get along with his helping hand. Akaash led him towards the girl-specific dense region of the mediocre-sized classroom and switched on his mingling device, “So ladies! This is Neel, the brand-new animal in the kingdom and I expect you all to get along with him, behave well with him, help him get through the absurd culture of this wrecking institution hahaha!”, the girls didn’t have the slightest idea of anything about Neel, but his personality was dynamic enough to make any of them fall for him. Tanya reached over to establish an amical relationship by shaking hands with him, but all she desired for was to swirl her long fair fingertips over his vascular forearm, “ Hey I’m Tanya! Tanya Kapoor, I’m sorry the kids here are too much occupied within themselves and it’s kinda hard to look after everyone you know.”, Tanya was a perfect gene of the conceitful teenagers who have a sense of superiority regarding their family, financial stature and physical appearance, moreover they are well-versed with the skills of pretentious-empathy which is why they’re able to dodge the entitlement of mean girls. Totally inconsiderate of the conspicuous semi-seductive motives of Tanya, Neel summarized his reaction in a bland handshake and the blandest smile one could possibly make. The domino effect of befriending was now functional or what one could assume to be a far-fetched attempt in successfully hitting it off with the out-of-league material for which the modus operandi was flattery and well that’s it. However, the last block of the domino was far apart from every preceding one, the one who wouldn’t follow the conventional trend and stand apart. Premonishing Vaani’s persona, Neel himself went ahead and stretched out his hand, “Hey!”, he addressed her. “Hey, I’m Vaani, I hope you won’t have to go through all this tedious intro-procedure over and over again.”, Vaani empathized with him as she knew how dull it gets after a while, getting summoned like a culpable to lay foundations of uncertain acquaintances, whom you might want to annihilate in near future. “I’m sure I won’t have to, Vaani. Thank you.”, he responded with some essence of eccentricity in his words, something that could leave one astray and disoriented in comprehending the verity. Although it shouldn’t come as a surprise, after all one could always get lost in the depths of the ocean.