How do you manage to keep goingwithout the urge to throw yourselfaway?How does it feel like hearing everythingbut your own heart?Does it really get better with time?Do layers of skin mange to cover it all? Tell me how you escaped the pitof rusty flowers decoratinghumnae need of art,Is there a way to escape your shadow?Have… Continue reading Shadows
Long before the presentthere was a boy named humanity.He lived in dense vegetationof Africa and decided to explore the land.With the little language knew,On his way to Eurasiafound a collection of wordscalled dictionary.To his surprisethere were many sentencescarved out with wordsFloating in the white background.He was stuck at the first pagewhich read:1. Famine (noun) Absence… Continue reading Before present
We are birds that flock together. Hunting worms, blind to the nature of the ones we’re dying to feed on. We follow each other while pretending to know it all and end up with a worm stuck in our throats. We are not choking, we are not okay either.We are birds;blind, foolish and hungry. Other… Continue reading Anything but Human -a poem
Most foolish act is to break down a minute. Time seems to be the most visible truth, unbiased and irrational or it’s engulfed by the past yearning for tomorrow?For half a second, I’ll let the grief leave and try to look for good, for they say, you find happiness when you look for it. It… Continue reading 30 of 60
My being is hanging out with the thought of being myself at almost all the times and the urge to be anything but me.Thought is an act of violence. The urge to be somethingbut me, is the violence against what I am. The urge to be nowhere but near you. Is it possible for a… Continue reading A City of heartbreaks
A poem, you ask? I sit here and think, wondering whatwe are, when doors are shutTight and hard. Alright, I will come with you for the trippy fight;also, came with my freshly chewed skin,All the prose and adjectives are hereWe’ll keep them the way they have always been. Let me give you a guilt trip… Continue reading Things that matter.
My heart is a building/memories blow/like the wind/Seekers shall findhome in my bones/My skin shall alwaysrelive the moments here/even if I go blind/ I draw hearts/on the glass/that shelters dew drops/for love is all I know/And to embrace the pain/is no weakness/For You shall grow/only when You know/ In the hallways/wander hearts/romanticising pain/In the name… Continue reading My Poems
Centuries ago, during thecourse of evolution, humansbrought the whole speciestogether, on the base ofOne belief system; Religion.We thrived. They say nothing lastsforever; humans have this obsessionwith change,To know more, To be more. And now ( fast forward to ‘I’ )As ‘act of God’I see my country mouldingbeliefs of generations.God has now become a toolTo control… Continue reading Gods are dying in my country.
In his Letters to Milena, Kafka wrote,‘You are the knife I turn inside myself;that is love. That, my dear, is love.’ And I can’t help but wondernumber of times I ate my own skinto feel your touch on my lips.And number of times I died,trying to reason with unknown.In search of words I travelthrough my… Continue reading I’m dying poetry
Reblogging/ re-posting this, because my reach ( along with visibility of blog to people) and will to write here, is messed. I once heard someone say The world inside your head is barren, But I brush that thought away For who they are to think they know. The spring came but I failed to fix… Continue reading Illusion.