Remembering and Forgetting

Reveries thrust

In beer bottles

Before discarding. 

Memories stashed 

In cigarette butts

After forcefully 

Forgetting. 

Any subtle trace

Of poetry that

Arises in my head.

I squish it with

My fingers and

Wipe out the stains

With masturbation.

Maybe I've 

Developed a liking 

To punish myself

This way. 

Dopamine works 

In a strange way. 

This repeated effort,

To remember and

Forget has formed 

Rough striations in

My brains. 

And whenever I rub 

My thoughts

Against it, the tones

That finds me..

Cascade down like

Sharp thrust of a

Needle down my 

Bones and I can't

Complain.

Pain

The leeches, 

That slither down

Our skin.

The vermins that

Eat over the 

Leftover sleep.

We're not afraid

Of the devil, 

That pays a visit

In our dreams.

The wounds, 

Inflicted this way 

Can eventually

Be healed. 

The worst kind

Of pain has certain,

Hidden softness

About it. Like-

The rose petals

That slit open

Our veins..but

We've been happy

About the smell

That has stayed. 

The bygones,

Who left a memory 

Without care and

The nostalgia, 

Has been ruining

Our days in vain. 

Prison is a bad

Place anyway.

But when we,

Romanticize, 

We scratch open

The scars again.

Denial

Before I can let oblivion win.

I'll douse cigarette butts on 

The surface of my skin-

To stash you in my sins. 

Before I let apathy take over.

I'll chisel down all my longings 

Deep enough to cast you down

My ribs. 

On the tip of my nib. 

Around the contours of

My whim. 

And before I let you go 

For good. I shall intimately

Weave you into the fabric of  

Cosmic expanse. So when, 

A star dies, every time,

The vacuum left shall set in 

A fiery impact that can only 

Be filled with your voice.

Solitary Confinement

To all the 

Unheard voices

I have been

Answering. 

For all the 

Unsent letters 

I've been waiting 

To be replied-

Invisible trails

Of ink. 

The Unseen

Things-

At a congregation

Of silence. 

I muffle prayers 

In a corner.. 

With a leash

Around my neck.

Blindfolds and

Gags still intact.

Self Sabotage

These days

I'm trying to learn 

The art of killing. 

I've killed thoughts.

Prayers, wishes.

I've killed a

Couple of people, 

Three cities.

Some roads, rivers. 

Seems it doesn't 

Matter.

I've been killing 

The ideas I can 

Pen down, 

Memories I can

Save.

Reveries I can

Hold on.

I've killed you too,

Last night. 

And how hard

It can be to

Let lose other

Vanities.

Friends, parents

Home.

It doesn't matter

Right?

But as I write

This, standing here.

Standing alone.

Like an ocean

That has lost

All its water.

Left with just

Sand dunes and

Salt mounds..

I realize, that

A waterless ocean

Is not even a desert.

It's just a subtly 

Flaunted disaster.

Find Someone

Drinking the darkness

The land, the sea 

And the sky have 

Sunk in silence.

Maze of all the 

Invisible paths

Been blinded into

A mirage. 

Stealing everyone's

Identity, the night 

Has frozen down 

Into oblivion. 

What presented 

Itself is green is not

At all seen. 

Even the blue 

Couldn't escape

This unfortunate 

Deed.

The yellow too

Has shaken its hand

Into a comprise.

Red stayed for a 

While but it's been

Smothered too.

Rainbow now is

A monochromatic

Giant as everything

Is turning 

Increasingly black. 

Lonely insomniacs

Should stop trying.. 

Sleeping alone is

Not advisable

Tonight. 

Deserved mourning

As you learnt 

Speaking and played 

With words.

Few got choked in 

Your mouth as you 

Stuttered.

As you learnt to 

Understand.

Ideas that came 

Your way.

Many got crushed 

In your mental clutter.

As you wrote 

And painted.

The characters that 

Ended up on 

The wrong side of 

The papers. 

The pens you've 

Lost. The pages 

You've torn. 

To teach you 

Step by step, 

The bricks that 

Have died. 

All those 

Martyred things 

Deserve, 

More mourning.

Perhaps with

Few roses and 

Extra daisies. 

And few lines of 

Poetic eulogies.

Unfinished Things

I start writing stories

And leave them midway.

Then tear up the pages to

Let them rot in a corner.

I suppose, maybe

Regrets get me going.

Like the time I decided

To climb a mountain

And came back without

Reaching the top. 

The girl I let go,

Out of sheer arrogance.

When there were ample 

Chances to amend.

The trains I hop.

Buses I get down from.

The constant urge to

Escape and leave

Things incomplete. 

So ingrained is this

Act of self-sabotage that-

By the end of each poem, 

I tend to kill the poet in me, 

To hang him in the

Last paragraph. 

And if you decide to

Read me next time. 

Bring flowers and 

Eulogies to offer peace,

To all the unfinished

And incomplete things. 

Un-

Unsung songs on 

The tip of tongue,

Dissipate in 

Overused melodies.

Unrealised dreams

From moist eyes

Drown in forgotten 

Memories.

Unsent mails.

Unspent time.

Unsold fantasies 

In the holster to

Wither in tired 

Fragrances. 

An unlived life

Mourns in a

Body-bag with 

Muffled eulogies. 

Escape

The oasis 

I sought 

Out of thirst, 

Has dried up. 

The mirage

I overlooked

Must have been

A river.

The shelter

I longed all along,

Has been

Abandoned.

The ruins, 

I've been avoiding 

Must have been

A house I belonged. 

To get rid of

My ill fate,

I ran away from

Myself.

In a far-fetched 

Place where

No-one could be

Seen. 

I met anyone 

To everyone, 

To realize.

The toxic person

I was trying to 

Escape was hiding 

Within me. 

Hopes to Regrets

The light has
Quenched the dark.
New hopes have
Come to life.
To the songs
Of a nightingale.
Lilies have decided
To dance.

An old tree has
Fallen down to
Make a way to
A new plant.
A dream to
Open its eyes,
The possibilities
Seem infinite.

The child in me
Seems to have
Grown a beard,
Age has taken
Over time.
Days seemed
Hopelessly long.
Yet years have passed
In the blink of an eye.

The night has
Clocked twelve.
Shards of memories
Have returned back,
And my longing to
Drench in the rain.
The water has
Caught fire.

Hurt

A philosopher is

Complaining in 

My head.

A rapper is 

About set an 

Obsolete trend.

Poet of fall.

Singer of a

Doomed dawn.

I'm a comedian

Who's being

Laughed at.

I for sure am

An astrologer

Banished by the stars.

Like a politician

Who talks less

And is kind.

An overthinking

Piece of charade.

A self-sabotaging

Kind of facade. 

On the surface

I look calm.

Take no offense,

Or mean harm.

But inside,

On myself, I stand

Holding a knife. 

Hurt people,

Hurt people,

They say. And 

If you come close, 

The knife can 

Turn around. 

Aspirations

The sky wants to

Be painted in red.

The river wants to

Fall off an edge.

The wolves howl

To be tamed,

And dogs want a

Salary raise.

The tiger is 

Athirst,

But water is not 

Enough. 

A feast on a 

Live deer, might 

That be right

To thaw its rage?

Held in a 

Similar page.

Brooding in just 

Another cage.

You think you too

Are the same but

That's a blatant 

Charade.

Dead Words

We don't talk

These days.

Yet some silence

Lurks around,

In bits and pieces,

In Appeal.

We don't see 

Each other

These days.

Yet this longing

Hangs tight

Like a hungry bird

Poised to peck.

Memories of your

Scent.

Creases of your 

Skin. 

It's hard to sit

Idle with you 

All-over my head.

So I try to force

My thoughts,

Into fragility of

Some words. 

They eventually

Fall prey,

To fit into a noose 

And die dry on a 

Sheet of paper.

There's nothing

Blander than 

Watching dead words

And I'm swimming

In the smoke of 

My own funeral pyre.

Recycling

Lies in gold-foils

Are spoils of war..

Offered, out of pity

To the young widows..

Saying everything

Is fair in war.

Pics with filters,

Pretentious poses.

Fix your nose,

Mind your tone.

Burning fat is more

Important in love.

So are fake promises,

With red roses.

Possibility of love 

Going wrong 

Shall not be talked.

Healing is banned.

A band aid for heart

Is time. 

But wasting time

Is not advisable.

As recycling is 

Harmful to capitalism.

Transient

Compulsive desire

To leave places.

Impulsive desire

To explore.

This nagging feeling

Of being left out.

Persistent worry

Of not belonging

Somewhere.

Short lived conviction.

Fear of failure.

Sense of not being

Good enough.

Inability to hold onto

Something for long

And a haunting

Desire to long

For something 

When it's gone.

Maybe I belong

To the sandy area

Of the seashore

Where nothing lasts.

Swish of water,

Things come along.

Giving enough 

Reasons to feel,

Soon they're gone.

Leaving, 

Itch of scars. 

Hopelessness

With clink of 

Glasses against

The warmth of a

Smoky fireplace.

A subtle emotion,

Bittersweet,

Of seemingly never

Ending place. 

I remember a

Japanese phrase,

That means

"I love you".

I say it loud 

Without proper

Pronounciation. 

But it bounces

Back from the

Shabby South-wall,

Like a song of a

Long lost dawn.

To which I dance

Artlessly,

Remembering all

The abrupt good-byes.

And life now has

Come down to a

Sort of insomnia borne

Jolt of awareness,

That I'll die one day

And eventually,

Move on. 

Embargo

I try to forget you.

But I fail.

I drink all day to

Forget you.

But I fail.

I read, I write.

I sleep, I wake.

I choke on my

Helplessness.

Talk to the ceiling,

Fight with pillows.

I bask, I crack,

I whack and I 

Really, really, try

To make you go

Away.

But I fail.

You creep in 

Like a snake to

Scare me again.

You sneak in

Like rustle of

Leaves in the

Dead of night to

Haunt me again.

It's like my

Head is on fire.

Skin has turned

Dry.

Hair is a mess

With a strong urge

For an itch.

And I have

Run out of water

To take a decent

Bath.

Upon that I've 

Decided to hate 

The rains too.

Also, I've been

Avoiding

The shadow of

The moon but

He has followed

Me everywhere.

I've tried to kill

You in my stories.

Tried to burn our

Memories.

But I've badly 

Failed.

And like fumes of

Hot chai that

Elevates desires.

You creep in to

Demand a 

Reconsideration.

And I ask myself

Again.

If I want to forget

You for sure.

Do I really want

To let you go?

The answer slightly

Tilts towards a no.

Seems like I've

Grown a fondness

To this embargo.

This fondness take

Sides of a fight 

Inside my head.

To be or not be.

To be you sometimes

And to be me the other.

To stay put or

Just move on.

Maybe it's fun.

Maybe I'm not

Lonely that way.

Poles Apart

Of the red

And the blue.

We're the 

Uncommon dark.

Of the music 

And the noise.

We're silences

Aloud.

Of a dream

And the dread,

A realisation that

Fled the night.

And of the hope 

And despair,

A love that didn't

Last long.

Like the sea  

And the sky.

We could meet

Only as a mirage.

In reality we're,

An universe 

Apart. 

Oblivion

Life slips from

The the clutches

Of my fingers like

The loose grains 

Of sand.

Passes through

The the gap in 

My eyes like a

Forgettable perspective.

Pages turn. 

The clocks run.

Night eats the day

And light turns up.

Time has fled.

Story is gone and

Before I could remember,

Oblivion said Hi..