26 Mar 2012

Oye Houdini

I unwrapped myself completely. Opened myself out to the world, played every role I could possibly play…but now when I am totally completely lost, the final root is coming close, I realize I cannot erase you from me. I failed and won at the same time. Screw you. YOU are here, will stay here.

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
                                                                                -E. E. Cummings.

And I want to write about love. But I cannot do it. I cannot play it anymore. I cannot hold onto the idea anymore, I need the physical tangibility in your godly stance. I want to really feel you and see you again to understand what I feel for you.

I feel you looking out for me, but more than a feeling that is just wishful thinking no?


6 Mar 2012


She is the chameleon.
Hop. Stop.Look.
She stops and waits and turns and looks and dives and flies and wanders and wonders.

I cannot see her…but she is here…hidden somewhere.

In your fantasies, lurking in that silent night's guilty dream.
In the unwritten phrases of that melancholic theme.
The dark alleys of your putrid soul.
The insinuating misdemeanors, the lofty goals.
Green. Scarlet. the midnight blue.
You dare not blink, for she changes hue.

She will leave, for when has she ever been chained? 
Here now. Gone again. 


pic: here

2 Mar 2012

the ragpicker

There is this picture. Of me standing, of him standing with his back turned at me at a very distant point, looking away. Looking away from me, possibly walking away from me.

When was the last time you heard a duet and smiled? When was the last time you could say for sure that those lines were sung for you? ages ago? 

It has been ages since she was loved back. Like a rag picker, she walked on roads catching glances, collecting smiles. Those hints of love that were passed on to her, she hogged onto them and lived entire life spans.
There was this high that she was addicted to. She tried different things, alcohol, melancholy and meaningless sex. She whored out. She holed out. Nothing, just nothing would work.

It is always easier to make some noise to defy that innate silence that has become you. But then there will be someone who is walking arms in arms and looks at you and smiles. You have to walk alone, like always. you will walk alone.


there should be someone who smiles when you smile, 
who sheds a tear when you do. 
who holds you tight.
who knows for sure that you belong, who knows for sure he belongs. 
there should be a love story. 


just too high on mush tonight. will wake up hungover from the spoils and then get-over it the day after.