I don’t want to count the stars,

And wonder at those glistening points

Nor wander through the untouched thicket, Pffft!

Who has time for all this!


I don’t ask for much. Never have.

There is

Simply not enough time, nor patience

For self is the centre of it all.

Minutes fall around me, hours roll

Away, like pebbles

From the hands of a child

But do I dare whimper? Or shed a tear?


Thick skin as they say, like cow hide

Beaten down, so many times

I hardly feel the pain.


Those you love the most are the ones who enjoy watching you bleed. And

sometimes you need to ask yourself

Have all that love been in vain?

Hours roll, unfeeling, just as years have rolled before them

With the heaviness of machines, well oiled

Tired eyes, tired heart, spent and alone watch on


Where did it begin?

Where to end? Should it end? Questions

Those painful hooks, tear into the flesh

I don’t wear white, for it shows off the red

Of a wounded bleeding skin.

Haven’t you heard?

Simplicity is the hardest thing.

Less is more, more is less

Who makes these rules, where do they bend?

Can they bend?

Questions. They know

No answers. Life

Is such, as we constantly tell ourselves.

But is it really so? Who makes these rules?

Where do they bend? Can they bend?

No one knows, does

Anyone care?


Untitled till September


Yesterday I felt your absence,

Right beside me, like a perilous drop

From which I edged away, fearing for life.

Emptiness overwhelmed, overthrew

What little sanity was left, as

Hip hop beats pelted all around

Like paralyzing darts at a

Sore, swollen heart.

Have you ever felt how lonely, how barren

These club beats make you feel?

Well, you know how this goes,

Every time I look at myself in the mirror I

Try so desperately to catch maybe

A glance of your smile in my own eyes, a splinter

Of a memory perhaps trapped within

From when I last held you.

Well, you know how this goes.

When feelings overflow I throw

Handfuls in the air and catch

What I can on paper, try and build

A bridge to you with words, but

Does that bring you closer? No, but I try.

And there I sat in a lonely cab homeward

Fingers itching, to ruffle your hair

Heart a wriggling mess, scratching itself in a frenzy

Mad with longing, just for a feel of you.

Yes, so your absence gives me words, bittersweet

On the tip of the tongue, but

I’d much rather have you instead.

Living inside my head


Gnawing at thoughts these tiny little creatures,

Scuttling all over, pricks sometimes

Those pointy meddling feet, numerous

In composition. Hurt

Comes at unexpected times.

Somewhere drips bleeding, and I

Think to myself that

People are meddlesome insects and I

Find solace only in my thoughts, so

Loyal and so intimate.

Walls have been built and I

Wouldn’t know where to begin to

Dismantle them, nor

If I would ever want to, the

Naive and trusting thing that I am, the

Humble clay walls that I’ve built,

Often misunderstood

For Citadels of pride.


Find my thoughts to be my friends and they

Keep me occupied enough, conversing

In varied tones, I

Live inside my head.

Facing the residual

Oh God! The residual love stings

Like glass splinters in the head, the pain

Lingers, the dolor

Of fading affection is

Bitter sweet, you cannot but weep

From exhaustion, tell yourself

It will all be over soon, but will it

Drown itself in the bog of indifference

That easily, while everything else

Crashes and burns, surrounds you

With throttling smoke?

Love fades, hang on

To its flimsy parting robes, leaving

Deep gashes on your wrists.

Tears are….

Tears are

Heart juice flowing from the eyes, wringed

From the insides, writhing

And coiling like a beheaded serpent

Frivolous attempt

To recuperate beheaded emotions.

Suffocating, stifling

Blood gasps for air

Liberating yet

Asyphyxiating, masochistic perhaps

As one gleans relief from

These painful drops…..


Pictures freeze, pictures hold

Moments of tenderness suspended in air

A loving glance, a rose petal of joy

Or a stem of hope, budding fruits of innocence,

Pictures, those jars of preservative stuff,

Are memorials held for those moments lost

And people who have long since changed

And the people in those pictures have long since passed away

While their loveless corpses remain

Talking, zombie-walking, soulless, mundane.

Pictures of smiles that used to be

Remnants in full bloom, remnants of pain

Remnants of happiness, remnants of hope

Hope which once was but has long since been lost

Pictures, those moments that are long lost

Pictures, those moments for which we mourn

Pictures of what only skeletons now remain

Those funeral pyres of what mattered the most,

Those painful tombstones of what used to be…….

Perhaps, perhaps not

Perhaps tomorrow it will sting less

The indifference would be replaced by care

Perhaps I shall be greeted with a smile

And loving words, oh

How it would make me smile!

Perhaps and perhaps not,

Oh I don’t know

This life’s fickle wriggling about shall

Crush me to bits one of these days.

I am

But a moth trapped in a suffocating cocoon

Slowly succumbing to a blanketing numbness

That seems essential in every way.

And I tell myself

Ruin is an essential step

In the long process of transformation

That one must be suffocated

In order to appreciate breath, to appreciate life

And hope to myself

That all this is true and brace for the worst, pack my bags

Because it is good to be prepared

Or so they say

Because tragedies are my specialty it seems.

But oh how I would so like to smile

Even if it is for a little, little while!