30 of 60

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. ItContinue reading “30 of 60”

A City of heartbreaks

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 aContinue reading “A City of heartbreaks”

My Poems

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 nameContinue reading “My Poems”

Gods are dying in my country.

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 controlContinue reading “Gods are dying in my country.”

Wonders

Don’t just hear,listenwhat one wordwhisper to other,Here, all the words areadjacent yet farhow they managed to exist,I wonder. Also, Instagram

I’m dying poetry

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 myContinue reading “I’m dying poetry”

Illusion.

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 fixContinue reading “Illusion.”

// of fears and discouragement//

The times are hard and my fears keep getting worse. In these fleeting moments, there are things I‘m scared of and care about.And then, there’s me.I’m my greatest accomplishment. I crave attention and validation from myself and write long paragraphs with weird rhythms to make sense of things around.I like to think of myself asContinue reading “// of fears and discouragement//”

This poem is whole.

I have heardpeople complainingabout writersnot writingtheir whole heart,always tryingto hide some part.And I have seenpeople trying toexplorethe unknown;like writersare not people,like they arenot their own.And I always thinkwhy is that so after all?So hereI’m puttingmy whole heart(with all the pieces)in this poemand nowThis poem is whole.

If I was a writer

If I was a writerI’d write you love lettersperfectly foldedin the scent of windhidden under the silk sheetsfrom me to youit can be a gift.And I’d dip my pen in your hairto check the length of your curlsand to steal the ink from you;Your skin is a rainbow.And I’d steal all your worrieslike the rainandContinue reading “If I was a writer”

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