Silent Handshake

School is where I find you, a rare sight for quite some time, it sustains with the trickle down the staircases as the aura fills up with the numbness of your cold vibes. At first it is nothing, the blandness of your superfluous noetic repartee arise, often in poetic forms it usually accompanies fungasms and at certain occasions innuendos. An intrigued one figures out that poker face - a spectrum of countless faces filters into black and white phases – with just one predominant mask for the world to see. But it doesn’t halt one’s interest; rather it spontaneously grows with this complex sophistication.

A Voice in the Wilderness

I've been meaning to tell you this for a while, I cried and I thought, and I couldn't figure out why. But I had to tell you and so I'm going to let it all out. Let it all come out on paper, bleed into ink and draw into dust. You shall bear witness to the crimes that I bear, this safe that suffocates me is no more for I can not live this lie anymore. So I'm out here into the wild, and like a phoenix I rise from my ashes.

Naked inside I finally write to you.

Soul Asylum

Life asks death, "Why do people love me but hate you?"

Whether it is dawn or night. The evening dusk or the morning twilight. All that ever seems to happen is rain all day long. It rains drones like falling stars, it captures their theatrics but avoids their rareness.  Metal blasters like meteors from outer space leave the black void of the open sky clutching on to the edge of its glory. Drones beat down the ground like a base drum. The empty vastness is shaken to its core like a tectonic shift. They drop straight in its eyes, the land screams out aloud, as they tore right through it and now they’ve left it blind. Under the cover of endless darkness and destruction, lies a blown out land with no hope to offer.  

Death responds, "Because you're a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth."

Mini Saga: Death and all its friends

The moment is finally here, I’ve been dripping thoughts for a long time indeed.

I drew a line, oh what a thing to do. For you, I’ll bleed myself dry.

Check and roll for one last time. Relax – this won’t hurt.

“Hope shall meet hopeless when there’s nowhere to go.”

Everybody Talks 19

I won’t tell a soul, I promise. But yeah well bitch, the second I tell you, the next will be spend finding the closest ear to whisper it in. And those whispers will be whispered into another ear and from there into another and so on until it becomes a game of Chinese whisperers. They all start with the same string that slowly and rather casually knits with the rest and forms a thread. A long thread that stretches across a series of threads, but out of place, it is indifferent - an outlier, an imperfection that spoils the whole sequence. The stain sets off a domino that spills over on a mass level into a volatile region that now erupts with conflict. It pounds down on to the Imaginary bond of trust that. Blood oozes from the pores, internal bleeds require patches, and it slowly begins. The fortress starts to self-destruct, it falls week on its knees, it crashes into the ground, and it crumbles into fine dust. Red droplets accumulate into widespread bloodshed.  It multiplies into a double, then a triple, and finally a quadruple; a ripple effect. It produces these echoes that resonate through empty space as it plays by the ear. Here and back again, start with a tinge of white, end with an explosion of black.

Bleeding Love 13

The days are cold living without you. Just want to hear your voice, that’s all I really want. But words come to rest in my veins when I see you. Freeze. Lost in limbo they lose track in free fall. Mishap. Chaos as the natural order ceases to exist. They slowly start to seep back in, the order reverses. It sorely begins to flow back in; a time comes when the body completely fills up. Have to let go. One pinch there and it bursts, viscous bodily fluids scatter all over in ecstasy. Vapors of desire are next, and with qualm they release the buildup. Like a smoke chimney it goes off with the crackles of a thousand balloons at once. Now is the time but just can’t. With dyslexia it may come out wrong. The wrong I can’t afford. I’d rather jump into a bottomless pool. Gradually it starts to pour out, not the words but the soul from one blister - and then the other.  Termites bring forth impalpable pain, with palpitations the body is set to terminate. I can’t control it anymore. Thoughts lost into space, trace back to infinity. Time arrives at zero. Halt. Everything that defines humanity is gone. Words, just unsaid words – the only matter left inside.

Love Is Just a History

Take a sword and strike it through my heart. It won't hurt a bit cause' it's already broken into thousand shards pricking every human existence that surrounds me. I used to have friends, or maybe not. But now I'm more lost than ever. One plays the theatrics of the century, the other the sadist over a lost cause. The trio is incomplete without those marriage conversations that seem to loose their touch. But all I seem to think is of the one that got away.

Was in love.
With a boy.
Who was in.
Well in other guy's arms.

Shifts to his comfort
Sight fixates on double-slits.
Society tells otherwise remember

But...

His intent and high was.
Hanging in some other guy’s bed.

You cry because red roses have thorns. Just like every night has its dawn. Or you rejoice those thorns have red roses. One handed over to you, filled with empty promises. Stings. Ouch. First blood. Cry off. Anguish. Silence… Pitter-patter down your cheeks, tears red in colour as your true lover’s eyes tell lies.

I fell flat on the floor out of the limbo of love, conquered by misery - I am finally letting go. I am in love, but I have fallen out of it. Infinity times deep you lie in slumber within my heart. A train wreck I am, waiting to be unraveled.