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the feeling forward
instead of backward
for a change,
triggering my body
into whole new
sensations;
as if I never had
any urges before
this time,
when our lips met
it killed
the innocence
of crawling
before running,
which my heart was,
faster with every passing moment
like a drunken semaphore
of hormones raging
inside and out,
the brevity of time
and of life
clearly out of the window,
for when we collide
to come together
instead of falling apart,
like this poem
not a reckless serenade,
then it hit me
a moment lost in creating one
when she fixes me,
would be a pity
to know we can't
go back.
just
trying
to
liquor
down
my thoughts,
replacing
them
for some
memories
that can't be
bought.
The paradox of alcohol: it does help with erasing bad memories and creating equally memorable ones.
yet another quiet reverie
precursor for a life forgotten
snatched away like the dreams I never had
of lush green valleys around the mansions,
fancying a meal of venison
in a clandestine shade of night
sparkling wine was a flavour of few,
lying awake at night
with a lover by my side

raucous laughter coming from all around
kind behaviour of the family makes you astound,
as a whole rather than a half
all together cherishing your art

lives were made and ruined in the night,
take it from an artist for losing everything in sight

a kleptomaniac of not just thoughts but words to boot,
fishing for inspiration while straightening my suit

scrambling for meaning even in the delusions,
living in denial rather than waking up from illusions.
Maybe in my dreams, I'm an artist.
I just wanna talk
maybe about something real,
like emotions or feelings
but I'm often recommended to take a walk,
Oh how I struggle to overcome
all of that from which I'm trying to heal
why do people get stuck up with the news,
movies or tv shows they binge?
often seems irrelevant
and makes me cringe,
I wish for someone or something
to give me clarity
or If I'm being honest
just save me a trip to therapy,
I'm in the middle of a meltdown
all I wanna do is be free
Imagine if happy thoughts would sell,
what a world this would be
I wish for poetry to flow through me
but only when I'm high,
I hope the words will get to me
but I already know it's a lie.
Sometimes I just wanna
I don't know,
just sleep it off
for a month or so.
sometimes my nimble fingers
slide across these coarse pages
subconsciously but smoothly
as if having a conversation,
filling these blank pages
with ghost stories
collected from the sages
of past ages unknown,
almost flirting with my sanity
running off on their own
like a free bird
talking to me
'Hey, are you reading this?
Look, I'm writing poetry!'.
Runaway fingers over runaway hearts...
Our complexity is what we think
separates us from everyone else,
our vivid dreams seem so different
yet ultimately meant to collapse into one.
Random thoughts for a crowd-less world.
I don't know if I've seen a lot
But seems that I've seen enough,
It's hard to find good people
As hard it is to find good love.

Maybe the world's crashing,
Hence everyone seems cruel
The world is ending,
And everyone's fighting their own duel.

It's hard to trust people,
But much harder is to trust yourself
Maybe there is a way out of this,
Where I don't end up by myself.

I've been carrying this load,
On what was once my light shoulders,
They just seem rugged now,
That the world has turned colder.

Once a virtue of kindness
Spread like a wildfire in my heart,
Tried to be kind once,
But the world tore me apart.

What did I learn so far?
In life, there are no two ways,
There is only one
Would you believe in God if I asked you to pray?

Pray for your soul,
Pray for your temptations,
Pray for all those souls
That desperately seek salvation.
Strange times but stranger human behaviour.
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