Is that you?

Laying in the abyss of solitude and uncertainity
I dreamt of you.

You refused to acknowledge me.
Is that a dream?

You chose to look away.
Is that a dream?

The heart sank in.

And I woke up.
Still no sign of you.
‘Are you fine?’

The Stay

The penultimate moment of indecision
Timeless moorings
Procrastination redefined
Desires recombined

To stay, and then to stay some more
Before the void is left
For always and ever
Stay some more until you stay no more.

Can fulfillment ever be defined?

Just an ant

Adobe Spark (5)Most of the life got spent in maneuvering through cricks
From getting away quickly enlarging shadows
Sometimes a part of a queue
At others, smelling for food
It was always accumulating for a peaceful time

Hurrying sole spikes stabbed me one day
Pressed softly against the ground I resumed
No bones cracked no blood spilled
l just inflated back on
Self esteem multiplied
I could stand such minor lapses

At another, I was collected with infected tissues dustworms and spilled sugar
That wasn’t the place to be
It smelled and hurt
How could you not see,
I lived amongst thee?
What about my dignity,
My entire journey?

I crawled back
My way
Back to the garden
Would rather be lost in mounds of mud
Than pace on smoothened walls
Would go on fragrant adventures on the petalled bush
Than smell for sweetened delicacies
Would slide on misty fruit skins
Than slip on scrubbed wet floors

Lost in thought I saw light
And water
And another like me coming closer
I hurried
Collided with myself in the reflection.

House locked.
Home lost.

Not without you

1I wish to see you there
At that place in that moment
Just as when I do with my eyes closed
And it is not enough
Nothing would be ever enough.
We would stay there longer this time
Forever this time.

I am here again
Same place. Another time.
Another me? Another you?
It would never be the same again
Not without you.
I miss every bit of you.
Where are you?

That Familiar Anesthetic

Waiting for a moment almost desperately and seeing it finally not achieve any sense of fruition is one of the biggest possible disappointments. It is probably the best place to locate the painful cavity between desire and fulfillment.

Whatever lessons might be learnt in the process are only a salve to the unconscious state of the insomniac being, forcing yet another series of desperate attempts to feel positive and gay.

Sometimes it is good not to feel positive.

Sometimes it is good not to feel.

At all.

Those few

Adobe Spark (5)Years after too
There’s someone you would like to see
As expected, it is not me
You would see and ignore, would be obliged if it wasn’t me
And I would be happy to see you came, would smile to the defeated me

I worked to change others’ perception of you
And you do not know
I stood to condemn others’ opinion of you
And you do not know
I trusted appreciated nurtured
And you know
I scolded criticised questioned
And you know not why

You could not see I cannot complain
You were a child I could not contain
I am passionate I go overboard
And someone else had you anchored
At least you come, and that’s a solace
You will always remain undeniable part of this place.

Fading away

Adobe Spark (5)

There’s something weirdly quirky about the change of day.. of being away ..

A forgetfulness I cannot explain
An erasure that makes me stay

It punctures the experience
Obfuscates the memory
Stirs the longing
Pushes the barriers
Makes me wait
Renews excitement
Bubbles up vocabulary
Lights the eyes

And again

Yet again..

Is it evolving or adapting or moving on
Or just persistence and dragging along..



Burnt curry
Misplaced reference
Prolonged smile
Fitful sleep
Incessant reveries
Sporadic tears
Overflowing bucket
Awkward timings
Serendipitous connections

All happened when I was lost in you
You are the reason for everything.

Life’s Landmarks

What are these landmarks to me
The lanes do not connect.
Never did I try to remember the way
The paths do not intersect.

Too narrow n congested
Too dusty n corroded
Too many n crowded

Air folds n thickens
Water gathers n stares

I guess this the reality then
Of ephemeral dreams
Of unrealised themes
Of divergent stories
Of perturbed memories.