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 have been pretty transparent, if you’re really looking.On my skin, you could see the boy with hazel eyeswith softest curls and the way,he is touching my skin just by looking,You can feel the metaphorsrunning along my hairto your fingers;you can sense the memoriescurling up your hand.Will remind you of the last kissor I’ll fill… Continue reading //Touch has a memory//
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 //