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
Another day while I was trying to escape from the dark, I saw this boy in middle of the park. Everyone was sitting in shade but he sat in open, The smile on his face was near to broken. Instead of sky I started staring him, when our eyes met his went dim. He got… Continue reading Garden
It was just yesterdayThat I wrote a poemto the early spring.Blooming flowers in my gardensoothe my heavy heart,every bud glowing green;Spring is a work of art. The hollow earthbeneath my feetis now as lively as a new born,Sometimes I feel I romanticisespring too muchbut, I am not willing to unlearn. It’s April now.It’s sowing in… Continue reading Beloved spring – Poem
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
I see life unfold before me,Like a distant memoryin moments of perfect harmonyyou build your home in my chestrising from the pit of my stomach;And rush into my eyes before I know.World behind you is blurredI try to hold on to it,To a memory, to a moment, to you. And like any other dayyou ignore… Continue reading // ‘V’ sign of tears //
Not writing this week? Want to know what piques my anxiety? Ask me a question.It’s not people that I’m scared of but myself. My words aren’t forced, they come to me, like rain, forming clouds slowly pouring out of my body. My fingers forge the sky and I embody the universe. But I suppose universe… Continue reading // zoning out from blog//