The hard stuff.

It was just not that one moment, but each moment that makes me realize that it has not quite dawned on me. I just open myself up and the truth, the memories come gushing out of the wounds. The same scars we bonded over, for we had them at the right shattered place, now seem to hideaway because maybe I’ve made them suffer for far too long. I think about it. I think about all of it right from when I see the sunlight till the point where I let the stars stare at me till I’m asleep. Some days I just keep wishing on them. Everyone wishes for the skies to be blue and as for me I didn’t ask for anything as such because I wanted the hard stuff, something that is real to the core and standing by your side even during storm would’ve been a pleasure for love is finding the calm withing the chaos. But I still want to tear that space down, devoured by the spiraling effect of all of it – angel, demon, it’s all I can see in myself but that space had all of us, how can I let that happen? So I curse the hell out of my feelings but let them overpower me at the same. I Get on my knees and try to soul search what is left of us so I can hide it somewhere remote yet withing myself, safe & sound. Down the line it taught me what it really feels like to be overpowered by this endless void, by you, which doesn’t leave until my vision flashes red and my skull crashes like a locomotive.


I felt that I had been happy and that I was happy again. For everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, I had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.

                                                                                                     – Albert Camus (The Stranger)

I traveled.
Far down the highway,
a fork in the road,
I tamed the wild-flies within
just so they don’t get me,
not any more.
The world was looking for covers,
I ran with the skies,
they frowned upon me and said,
“we really wonder why.”
I held torch to the stars,
they held torch to my faith,
but hate is not vain,
so I let it fire my ache.
I sat in stillness,
heard the thunder sing a song,
the moon called out from behind,
like a lone wolf calling out for home.
I traveled.
Far down the highway,
a fork in the road,
I ran straight through it,
just so they don’t get me,
not any more.

Crash and Burn.

The space we had,
had a language unknown,
not of twenty-six letters,
but of feelings and things more.
We filled not pages,
but scribbled in the sky,
forget about the moon,
be damned the sunlight.
Things known to us,
did help us explore,
we lived in poems and prose,
No wonder we can’t tell,
how long we’ve been living this for.”
Ourselves we poured into each other,
the stars did seem so blur,
the only thing we noticed,
was the fire within us.
We traced along the time,
and the world did stay,
but only for a standstill,
I reckon, we let it fade away.
Things started dropping,
they slipped out of our hands,
it was hard to trust it all,
but all I could see was,
our memories
crashed and burned.