Within.

Stars and diamond,

Gold and silver; Bangles and earrings.

Oh, you beautiful beings.

In this dark I see,

Torched sonnets, words in scripted on walls and ceilings.

Beautiful phrases, good grammar.

Does this get better?

I want to read, every bit of this place. Enclosed yet open, heaven in a tunnel.

Shall I die here?

A husky voice!

Ah, treasured secrets but narrow visions.

This is love, this is lust.

I lust those lips, from which these words emerge.

Those eyes, who do you seek?

So much glamour. How words resonate in you!

Not every script is made for thy land.

Lie down with me, on the sand.

Fill every bit of this paper. With art, with music, with words!

Words that will awaken you, the ones that shall touch you.

Oh, his hand.

Sculpted with the colour of Adam, reflecting masculinity.

Not fair and fragile like hers.

Not painted, not jewelled. Just perfected.

He would hold the fountain pen, while she would hide in her den.

Her magic, his words.

The ones that read her curves.

Just above her belt, between the t-shirt; that little corner of her waist that peeped.

He had lusted her, but he loved words.

Now he loved her and lusted words.

His mysteries were now a maze.

Her beauty now his craze.

 

 

Advertisements

A Contrasting Malaise

Image

The smoke fills the air in the house, the ‘havan’ has just finished. It’s supposed to be a religious ceremony where all the negative energies in the house are collected, the god’s and goddesses are prayed to. They say that, during this ceremony there is even a time when they descend down for the ceremony’s completion and sent back. Where are they?

I want to see them. I want to see the negative energies in the house and in myself and I want to see them go. I want to see god take away all these negative energies. I want him to see that everybody is a mess.

Despite the circumstances, the beautiful colours, clothes, faces, exchanges of gifts and money; what really lies?

I want him to see.

I’ll hum a tune, and you’ll never know what song it is.

I’ll wait, wait till you’re done. So you’ll come back and smile.

But you won’t.

For that I have to let you go.

I’ll walk here, and you’ll walk there. I’ll smile.

They’ll tell me, it’s a beautiful smile. Is it now?

The one that can’t reach my eyes. The pain is strong, intoxicating almost. When it’s a part of you, it hurts. But slowly, like the stream of water seeping into something, It gets into every cell of my bloodstream.

Sometimes, rushes too!

Like poison in a mortals body, as though it’s counting seconds and longing to finally turn into a vampire because otherwise, it’s just painful. Then the remorse hits you. You howl, plead and scream. Hope. Hope that this seeping pain will either go away or fill itself completely. And slowly, it fills you. It fills you like a glass being filled by a jug. It has too much to give and you, too little to take. There are shivers at first, and then comes numbness. The wonderful gift, better than alcohol or anything else. The numbness loves you, and you love it.

Pain, hurts you. Numbness, calms you.

Somehow nothing that anyone says matters and you want to smile because you’re a mess but so is the world. You realized that sooner, much sooner that your friends have or they will.

I wish I could say, but hey who’ll listen? They all say they will.

They don’t.

If you’re reading this then you already know what pain is. It’s a happy high or a constant stab in the stomach. I want to look at my foot and touch it, feel it because I know it hurts.

I know that the car that ran over it, was heavy, I know that the tier as it rolled over my gentle skin of my foot hurt me.

But I won’t look at it, because it’ll make me realize; the stabbing pain.

 

The suffering that our body goes through. These unhealed wounds, incomplete desires of beauty, cuts, aches, and fractures are they anything compared to how really hurt we are or we have been?

Do you want me to tell you? I will, I promise to write them in flowery words or just plain reality. Will you cry and sympathise or leave it to say- “How unhappy.”

I Am. I’m unhappy. Discontented. Unsatisfied.

I wanted to be, now I’m crippled. Not permanently, temporarily. I don’t like how my sickness restricts me. The fact that I’m scared of going out or that everywhere I go, I look at every man and wonder if he’d manipulate, lie and rape.

 

So as these smokes, slowly creep into the molecules of the air

The ‘havan’

I’ll ask god to take away my pain too; this suffering and maybe he’ll listen.

With it maybe, he’ll also steal away the cause of this all.

 

Amen. 

 

Leave behind.

solitary autumn leaf wall inkbluesky (2)

Creeping fears of the world left aside,

No, not yet behind.

Lost, loveless souls kept aside,

Temporarily,

Unknown fidelity,

But no, not left behind.

Sparkles of the eye, beautiful smiles

Kept aside,

In corners of my heart, a little place to hide.

Companionship.

A word worth a million dollars,

Replaced with shirts and collars.

Temporarily,

Hopefully, maybe.

Kept aside,

But no, not left behind.

Imperfection now replaced with perfection,

Wasn’t that what we wanted?

Lost, for perfection doesn’t have affection.

Keep imperfection aside,

Live this, embrace it.

But imperfection is beautiful.

So no, not left behind.

A hand to hold, a shoulder to lean

Beauty to admire, and people to forgive

Places to go, success to achieve,

Life to live, love to give.

Age to grow,

A family to make,

Smiles to spread.

Veneration to keep,

Traditions to maintain.

How can I put it all aside?

But I must.

Aside,

But no, not now , never behind.