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
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.
Don’t just hear,listenwhat one wordwhisper to other,Here, all the words areadjacent yet farhow they managed to exist,I wonder. Also, Instagram
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
You try to hide your womenin thin threads of colourcastand religion.You hide thembehind the shatteredceilings of your sin.And you tell them“It’s for your protection”. You stop womenfrom going out,meeting people,and cover thethick khol of their eyesand you tell them“this is because I love you”. You beat your womenfor having a voice,a right,an opinion,revolutionary sight.and you… Continue reading A lot
Lately, I have been feeling so pissed at world and my head seems full of rants, probably not going to talk about that to someone. So I guess I’m starting to write them down here. ___________________________________________ I have been called pretty, beautiful and all the things someone want to hear, but I don’t want to… Continue reading Tell me?
Your heart was a hurricane soul was a vast sea, I miss the old times when your words were free. Layers on layers of impair what have you become? Let me hear this story sit here, come? Talk to me, tell me where all of this went wrong? I’m here to listen even if it’s… Continue reading Autolalia