Mind Factory

Prosaic projections,
Of everyday Mind Factory,
Stretch out beyond seamless eons-
As an endless drudgery.
The routine of 6-1,
Is a tortoise shelled and turtle paced,
Idea of someone else.
Keynotes of keypads,
Fill the drill-
With all political frills.
Drone on,
You slave -
Mindlessly you live your days,
And outlive your own ways.
Physically numb,
You become mentally numb too-
Climbing the rungs to hazy rings,
Of smoke and no fire.
Ranks and Banks,
Juggle your sense of self-
As your mission is no longer your own vision.
You live someone else's passion.
Are you even yourself?
Has your identity,
Perished in the ignominy of id-entity?
That too,
Guided by the selfish constrictions
Of another's lackluster dreams?
What is the end?
And what may lie beyond-
Are questions, mayhaps,
The ordinary refuse to seek answers to.
Choose to shut themselves in their islands,
Praying for inception to have mercy on the mice.
Are you rolling your own dice?
Or just struggling to find the truth in the lies?
Vain drain of brain-
Eroding sanity,
Corroding belief,
And fast transgressing to what fiction depicts
As an assembly line mortgage.
Trapped in the honeyed fibers,
Lashless eyes see no end, no beginning-
No mindbend-
A touch of creativity,
Seems alien and God-sent.
Sparks feel like off-shoots,
Pristine their clarity-
Yet dreary and unwelcome.
Thoughts find no form,
As the top-heavy ladder,
Gives no shape.
No rise,
No escape.
It's just a waste-
These wishful days of fancy,
When young impressionable minds-
Are caught up between ideal and real-
The friction becomes the charade,
One must evince dumbness too.
Progress becomes a process thus -
In this jaded Mind Factory.

Run Run Run

I want to run too,
On the treadmill,
Or the road.
With feet pounding-
Venting out all that goes on inside.
I wish,
I had the energy for my earlier pace now.
I see others.
And let jealousy overtake my rationale.
With all gone haywire,
At least running brings in my modicum of sanity,
Back in my life.
And I really want to feel the air,
Gushing past me-
Like all my senses heightened beyond,
The silent scream born out of intense rage.
Yes, anger suffuses me,
As I feel all that I never want to feel ever.
All the hatred against the harsh faces,
Get stuck with nowhere to go.
All the trivial specks of rivalry and unhealthy competition-
Find no outlet.
It's like sweat,
That doesn't pour.
I want to run,
Amok-
Out of my mind.
Leave the drudgery of Gurgaon behind-
And fade into my own rainbow-
Nowhere to find.
I want to feel the hard-work,
Grinding under my feet.
As perfection itself seems an absolute illusion now.
Much beyond vanity,
I want to run out my own insanity.
I want to leave all my self-hate intact-
As a wreck ball gone havoc.
Guess, cracks are indeed surfacing-
From all the mindlessness that I am facing-
All that I want to rip, tear and kill-
With my blood boiling.
Yet, I think of a loved face,
And that stops me from retaliating-
From the foolish ways of a 'pretty' poor being-
Or the retarded ways of a demented forsaken pebble.
That face alone,
Gives me just a sliver of peace-
Yet as it saps me off my own energy;
Making me love and hate it equally-
Yet treasure it with all the goodness
That encourages me to go on.
But I do need to run-
Rebuild me, as my earlier me.
Of which I know just a skeleton-
Or just must trace the transition.
I want to burn,
As I run.

Que Sera Sera

The last day,

We'd met,

Made me question,

The parsimonious words,

That we dared to share in the interim.

Was it all to fill up gaps?

Spaces that we can't let be seen?

Maybe over that coffee,

I could have told you more,

Or maybe at night over that shot,

I could have spilled my beans to you too.

But is it at all a mandate,

To open up and embitter more?

True, all we had was a lot of fire to shed-

That incinerated us both

And left chars in our wake.

Tears ruined our nights,

As through days, 

We'd sought empty company.

But then again,

Nights now with you -

Seem unnatural?

Or is it as it was meant to be?

Yes, I did notice

How you'd left the nan

On my plate,

Just the way I liked it.
Or dumped more of the chicken curry,
To make me eat,
As you'd never seen me so physically weak.

Or even stay up at night,

And feel my fever rising up,

To soothe it back to normal.

Love-conditioned were you-

I could ask with a smile.

Yet, I know the action carried

An essence of your thought-

As you've tried to mend it all-

And be there as someone new.

Can I be that too?

As a friend,

For I can be nothing more now.

I feel the love,

But it's a glow now-

Of times shared,

As I would like to carry the goodness ahead.

We did grow up with each other-

Through all the college days and now a steady career.

Just that, I have failed to be your carrier.

All I have in defence,

Is that I have tried-

In all honesty and truth-

But could not strike the chord needed to re-try.

Perhaps never shall.

I love someone else now,

And will forever-

Or so I feel.

But then again,

That's me - as you know best.

I follow my heart and follow it through 

Till all burns.

With you,

It was the same too.

I do feel the pangs of guilt,

Coursing every now and then-

Thinking about the dreams we'd left,

Ours and our parents'.

I saw the same question in your brother's eyes too,
The other night we'd met.
Yet, I was happy,
That you'd acted on the streak of humanity-
That you're best known for -
To take me out and let me feel the fresh air.
Mostly I remain expressionless,
To all your nuances-
Just that, I have a keen observation-
And let nothing slide.

I know not,

What the road now,

Would lead to.

Silence or a 'share-point,'

Or just an unassuming path left open-ended?

Point is, it's my impatience to always search for ends-

For I cannot dance to any tune but mine alone.

Just that,

The lack of transparency,

Wasn't by choice as much as loss of voice.

I have no more to vent out now-

I have said it all,

And destroyed some more of your sleep at times.

All I can fervently hope now,

Is that,

We have nothing artificial in between-

But be as floaters alongside.

Maybe in me,

You may always find a friend,

Who would seek to brighten your way ahead.

Platonic Cosmos

I wonder about the strange connect,
The pans distance,
And spans time-zones alike.
It's an elastic bond,
I feel-
One stretched at will-
To lengths beyond inches.
We talk seldom-
Meet lesser even,
But what is this strange link-
That strengthens every time ?
Yes, I'm grateful-
Cancerian coalesce after all-
Mayhaps that forms the base-
Upon which our prism rests.
We need no words of truth,
To define,
Refine or even outshine our scope.
Just a meet,
And all seems strangely complete,
As we sit and talk-
Like days left behind.
Strictly platonic,
Yet a love so pure,
You always bring a smile,
As I remember to lean on you too.
In actuality,
We think less of each other now-
Lost only in the pace of days.
But good wishes remain always-
As we know that we're there
As silent compatriots.
So, the promise made to you last night,
Is something I'll stand by-
And the moment of looking into your eyes,
Is a moment I'll relive ever.
I am  happy,
To have friends like you in life-
Where I know I've a shelter,
As I come undone.
All conversations and broken words,
Somehow find meaning,
As they weave into your ears,
And find a security in your being.
You know a part of me-
That I share with you,
Just as well,
It's reciprocated likewise.
We're alike yet distinct,
In ethos, ethics and aesthetics.
I learn the craft of beautifying from you,
While you regain some sense of self,
Striking your balance,
Using my strength.
It's a linear equation that we share-
With the many memories left behind.
Yet, we no longer trace the route of nostalgia,
But have progressed as two mature beings-
No longer caught up or confused by how things work-
Instead guided by the motto of making it work,
Regardless of heart-burn or fire.
In essence then,
We have grown up too,
And have also followed the path,
That evolution has laid out for us.
But within it,
We carve out our own niche,
As we still keep our,
Individual brand of insanity alive,
To carry us far and ashore.

Man-Wonder

You're a miracle in being and architecture,
Pristine your form
And flawless your steps.
Must you trod along, in the common man's gait?
To push through said boundaries and defined gates?
Life for you,
Must be upscale and up-street-
Where the only way forward,
Is progress in every sphere.
At 33, you stand tall,
But for you,
I would never hope that you have it all.
May you always be enchanted,
By the simple moments of magic,
That captivate your senses,
And leave your pulse racing.
May you never choose to be happy with your spoils-
I wish to see you vanquish more,
My conquistador.
Plough through unknown terrains,
And reap the wonder of what you sow.
You must learn to tear beyond,
What meets the eye-
And set new goals for you every time.
May your efforts be met with blessings
And rewards.
But would pray in candor,
That it never sets  in lethargy
In your movements.
Hope you always run to chase your own absolute,
Never wavering from what you see as your own moksha.
May your inner peace bear salute,
Of a thousand distant voices -
Bowed in reverence.
The magnanimity of your persona,
Must overshadow all-
Yet never condemn or condescend,
Nor conform to perform.
May all souls be lost,
In your essence-
Like I am,
And forever shall be.
With love,
I shroud your shadow-
With awe,
I may gaze at you,
My Man-Wonder.
Everyday, I pray for the fruition
Of your dreams-
I hear all that you keep  stored in silence-
Long to restore your sense of semblance.
Piece together all the missing pieces of your puzzle,
To circumvent the odds,
And give you, your peace.
I feel all that you keep hidden-
From all eyes,
Who consider you close.
You're but a mere existence to most-
Who know not,
How to treasure you.
I see it all,
The way you want me to.
Pay heed to what your heart says-
Feel your heartbeat in my core.
You resonate deep in me-
Like a long lost soul having found its foothold.
Are we trapped in our own folly?
So be it-
I meet the challenge head on-
Face squarely all those who try to intervene.
I maybe far younger than you,
By matter of years,
That others painstakingly point out at their crudest.
Yet, I would always hope that you fly high
And soar above all clouds and rainbows-
'Coz I know you the deepest and feel you the strongest.
With our hands held,
I feel life coursing through me-
I feel your own rhythm,
Beating in me.
In your heart,
I find my own rhyme-
As our hands fit and shadows shape our conjoined contours.
No matter what,
My love will remain steadfast for you.
Strengthen each day
For all the joy or pain it may bring.
In you, I have painted my own canvas-
Of pearly smiles and joyous sunrises.
I choose to place my faith in you-
For I can  see the shining pathway you illumine-
You will rise and achieve,
All that you'd been born to-
May your aspirations
Find form soon.

Live Fast - Die Young

When the buck stops at you,
And the show refuses to go on-
All you need is the relief of loud music,
Kaleidoscope of wild lights
And light-headed spells as you mix the night away.
You burn,
With the smoke all around you-
OCD and LSD-s grind their way through.
You finally feel happy as you're high-
Way above the starlight-
Rest those tattered fragments of emotions born.
You go with the speed,
Enthralled by its thrill.
Acid tears, scar cheeks.
You cry no more,
Lost in the lucidity of emotions lost.
You love life on the edge-
And the tingling fear of crash and burn-
Never alone.
You love hanging from your own cliff-
As you can't stop the cycle beset on you.
Berserk minds seek no relief,
As the solution comes easy.
Escapism,you call it?
So be it- the cloudy vision agrees.
Snooze is no help,
From your nightmare-
As all the colors you see,
Are blurred in grey.
Reality fades away,
As you shrug off its harsh bites.
Thoughts of the known no more-
As a silent violence engulfs you.
You want to hit out at the Joker-
Tear the skin along the wrinkles
And ruin its smile forever.
You want to uproot the cause of it all-
Purge your own system,
With the tequila sunrise.
You ask the racer to scream through the dark lanes-
Unmindful of the potholes that jar the journey.
It's not a way forward,
Not a progress,
Just a movement from what's stuck.
Time runs slowly through its hours and minutes-
The ashen gaze now lost in its haze.
Dazed but alert,
You look for more of the red light-
'Coz you want to violate them all.
Careless of caution,
Life remains valueless-
As you stop loving your own shadow.
In a way,
You want to look over the brink of wakefulness,
And peer into what lies ahead.
Curiosity drags footsteps in that direction,
There's no more weight to pull you back now.
Live fast , Die young -
The silent motto on the blue lips.
Weakness trails back in,
As the blood loses power to pulsate-
The ends numb now,
You still long for the lights.

Good over Evil

And I can hear the much loved sounds,
Smell the moisture in the air-
See the curly clouds lazing about-
Cotton candies afloat in the blue sea-sky.
Can see the golden rays,
Settling like a love-sheath-
Shelling the clouds.
Colors everywhere-
Splashing and cutting through-
Vying for attention-
For love of the eye afar.
I can see all the familiar preparations,
Routinizing themselves to the festive harmony.
Light-hearted all flow along-
With the frozen tide of times.
The clay-art,
Of reverent shapes and forms-
With the nostalgic view of ten hands,
Slicing life out of the green evil.
Smoke everywhere-
Not hazing the eye,
As it looks on-
Mesmerized-
Stuck in the moment,
Of an emotion deeply felt.
The crackling buzz in the air
Makes the atheist bow-
In deferential code of conduct,
Struck by the pattern of the crowd.
Hands held,
Eyes caress the vista ahead-
Of bodies and floating heads-
As all await their turn to witness,
What childhood had always glorified-
Good over Evil.
May the spirit of goodness hail,
Making silent dreams come true
As prayers are uttered in chant-
Enchanted the eye is besotted too.
Drawn into the quagmire,
Which presupposes the inner conflict-
To believe or not to believe-
To give in or move on?
Faith for the cynic,
Has always been hard to vest trust on-
Yet the love in the air,
Makes the eye acknowledge half-shut,
Of truth and its wisdom.
The Bengali in me,
Stirs in its soul's recesses-
Curled up so far,
It rises from its dormant state,
As I start feeling alive once more,
Letting the blood pulsate deep in my core.
In encore,
Rises my own rhythm,
To keep pace with the drumbeats much loved-
New fabrics caress skin,
As I feel my mother's love deep within.
Yet another year together,
We shall see through yet another Puja together.
In trinity, we have always found our unity-
Nowhere bound but home that we know.
Daydreams come true,
As we dare to set flight.,
All our plight,
And laugh through our tears,
At the mockery that so jades us.
Yet powerful and empowered,
When together we stand with heads held high-
Watching the priest mutter the unknown words-
Yet in the beat known best.
We rise in love supreme,
As my eye searches for another face too -
Much loved but much afar-
Wishing it well with all my heart,
In life and beyond,
May my God rise above all religions.

When Illusion meets Delusion

2 fates,
2 states
and 2 dates -
Were all that took and more-
To wreck the peace
And rock the boat.
It's a fun-story,
Only when fun itself is a pun-
When the older met the wiser-
Yet the naive chose the knave.
The plot was the same-
Damsel in distress
And the black stallion-ed knight stressed.
Rushing into the scene-
To free the chains,
Yet put on more,
Clanky constricting metals.
The locomotion,
Otherwise mostly fluid-
Now remained bottle-necked,
At the clown's hands.
Oscillation of Time,
Proves mundane in the dying days.
Eyes lost in starry daze,
When illusion meets delusion-
The blurred road,
Somehow the way ahead.
The knight's horse is stuck in quicksand-
As the sands of time passes by too.
They can't stop the cycle that spins out of control.
Damsel damns self,
Curses her ill-fated fate-
The unfortunate epic of another heartbreak,
A misfortune.
She sees the knight afar,
Cloaked in  her white sheath-
Clocking the knight's fall.
Will it mark her downfall too?
The window panes offer little relief-
To the vista ahead.
But in it,
She resolves to kill her dreams.
Freedom comes coked in rocksalt-
Sedimented ashes of fossils never bemoaned.
She numbs her dead dreams-
All an illusion in her harrowed world,
Where the hackneyed eye could be narrowed,
To a tunnel-like vision.
She now must shed the rose petals,
That could help her count the hours
To the final countdown.
She must resolve further to absolve,
Of memoirs, moments and laments-
Belated be her erstwhile shortlived joy.
Happiness must be like pearls stamped on-
Blackening the bleak white,
Cracking the smooth sheen.
She must forget,
What one must to exist again-
Now that life left her dead.
She ought to move on,
With a heavy heart and tear-laden eyes-
Forsake all that'd been endeared in a short while-
All that was her home with the knight.
But let go,
And sail away into the night.
Forfeit and see the defeat.

The Sound of Muzak

No matter the ups and downs,
Or the criss-crossing silver lines
With the shadows-
The clash of words and images
And the confusions that reign;
All drown when the notes play.
Fade away when the chords resonate-
With lyrics so true-
A lift from my life.
Wonder which is the precursor?
Music or the art of life?
In their strings,
Optimism bursts forth.
As I hear on loop-
Certain songs that bring tears-
Cleanse and purge out of purgatory-
The stuck soul.
The haunting leit motif,
Draws out inspiration from within.
To arise and rise-
Sanguine but wise.
To keep the faith and plough on-
March towards the blinding light
Letting the steps carry me over,
To freedom yonder.
Keep my belief in your love steadfast-
And remain unwavering in my decision of you.
Music gives strength to the chapped vision-
Re-instate courage to see beyond what meets the eye.
Mellows the storms within,
Keep calm and walk on.
As the wings soar high,
Letting the wind carry the lightness forth-
The loved face flashes by-
In its rhythm my life.

Trialogue

No matter the perils
Amidst all torn thrills-
11 pm is a time-space
For the mind to unwind.
The three cities connect
Forming a Bermuda Triangle,
Over the sordid country's earthy chest.
And the words held back-
Pour into the ears much taken for granted.
What my thoughts cannot shape-
Find form in the other two pairs trusted.
All the tears held back
Throughout the day,
Find vent in the hearts,
That'll never scorn the downtrodden.
To them , thus, I entrust the sorrow of defeat,
Or the zigzags of bumpy joy-stories.
From my pillars,
I hear,
The common man's story-
And the bleakness fades to reveal the shy sun
Hiding behind the clouds.
It's a source of strength, support and sanguine security,
In  my otherwise unfertile and poorly textured,
Sandly loam beneath my sole-less feet.
As I stand dejected,
With back against all,
The other two have gotmy back-
All the way till eternity.
Together, the trio,
Hash out the twenty something problems,
And unwind - not seeking any solution.
The 3 pairs of eyes
Have seen much of the world.
The dark hideous underbelly of it,
As also the changing colors,
Of faces much known.
Yet in the company of the threesome,
Lonesome days and nights,
Cross one by-
The pinch is not felt,
But once again cherished hopes are shared.
The trialogue marks the beginning of the day,
When the night is almost about to end.
Yet throughout the day,
It's the only thing much awaited.
For its nothing but the truth,
And the surety of love supreme.
While all around falls,
Like castles in the sand,
Washed away by the cruel tides.
The trialogue may run the same channel,
Hum the same tune.
Yet the unending meanders,
Stand for integrity,
In a world fast dying,
With deception running amok.
Mocking the much apprehended diurnal tyranny,
The threesome sail through the gails-
Riding through the breathless peals-
That much lovingly feel real.
In  the grey globe,
The trialogue stands as testimony of longevity.
That foundations can be strong,
And love maybe built on them to forever exist.
When nothing lasts forever,
And fickle hearts change and entangle you,
Like quicksand in its vice-grip-
The trialogue serves a mast
And an anchor,
To the boat that rides shaken.
For always and more,
In wonderment, I thank the Almighty-
Forever and more,
Shall the trinity be a unity.

Burn

A coffee cup conversation.
With the Concerned Banana-
Shot us off into our outer space,
With both unwillingly faced with the
Magnanimity of the Cancer !
The aqueous symbol stands for nothing
But over-active lacrimal glands-
Or just numb tired tissues.
Sips doused in froth,
Hazes the weary minds too.
As words tumble out,
In the the rather awkward shared space.
Strangely, the watered sign binds us to
A starry fate-
That we can only stare at.
'Coz it's too far-
And too much beyond comprehension-
Much above individual will to see a collective conclusion.
Collateral damage- that's what became of us-
As the others strode towards the podium.
Issues remained the same-
With names and borderlines changed.
Songs remained the same too-
Funny how loving and losing is interchangeable,
By age, life-stage and an alphabet !
We may laugh-
In bitter sweet irony-
Of all the agony that ties us to the sign.
We long for the earth or the fire to be the ruler-
Or transpose the fate of date !
We burn - heroes in our own stories.
Suffer the ignominy of all that's familiar.
Banana looks at me-
While I let my eyes slide-
Looking for that new slice of a new lie.
Actually, what we'd realized,
Is that the horror-scope
At the time of our births-
Had destined us towards nothing-
But to meet, greet and treat dysfunctional breaks.
Is it that, we don't let ourselves be happy-
Let go and make peace with the loss.
Why does the sign cling on to
What's not the fate,
But a swim through dire straits?
We look at each other,
And the scars that leave the plots bare.
Burn, is all that we can think of,
In our own despair.
While solution remains simple-
The ethics of our sign,
Pulsate and drill into us,
The codes of conduct-
Like the stone tablets of Hammurabi,
We seek our inner peace,
Through the fire-
As we walk barefeet.
The clouds offer no shade,
The rain- no mercy.
It;s just the black fire in us,
That make us burn in defeat.

Androphobia

Wonder if the Road to Perdition,
Bypasses that of Salvation.
Or what evils might wrought,
My way - more.
Wonder, how many crossroads,
Must I stand at?
Looking at the blinding sun-
With eyes half shut.
Faith seems a brittle word,
An embodiment of irony-
The feeble mind.
Easy to break,
Easy to shake-
Footsteps falter in its gruesome shade.
Androphobia, now, impinges the tiny brain-
A new dimension to the otherwise insane.
Pictures, words, images,
All fall mundane-
As the spirit saps the journey,
Of its own vigor.
The ears have shut out all noise-
Silence regains its own independence.
Retrospective,
The scared and tarred soul,
Cowers under the weight of its own loss.
It's more than a sign of life gone-
Rather, the sign of awakening seems amiss too.
Do ends and new beginnings always remain divergent?
Yet their direction parallel to the cross-roads?
The face covered in wreaths of black-
Await the scavenger on its hunt.
Wishing, for it to shred it more-
To pieces which may find its unity with earth-
To be enmeshed wits,
With the brown soil.
Stamped on by more footprints' onslaught,
Careless in their onward journey.
Barren the desert,
Where the figurine stands,
Reflects how her life shapes up now.
No oasis in sight
For some peace-
Only a mirage of faint hopes.
Wonder where joy had run off to-
Forsaking the pearls but leaving empty shells instead.
Long for the known touch,
To revive and set fire once more-
To the childish inner being;
Yet life had moved on faster,
Than anticipated
And the figurine in black,
Must acquiesce to the end too.
For it's for another's smile-
That the end must mark a new beginning
In the other's life.
For that,
One must choose solitude-
And let words drown in silence.
The shackles must impede advance-
The figurine must love the chains.

Daylight

So when you look at the night sky,
Its serene black beckons out to you.
You wish you had wings,
And long to fly-
Touching its mystique velvet.
You imagine breathing in the purity
Of the silvery moonshine-
Letting it soak and seep into you.
The light helps to give you the warmth-
That you need-
When all is cold-
And all hopes are sold.
Stars twinkle along their magical spokes-
Piercing the dark with their smiles.
You long to touch the jagged edges-
And see the blood pour.
A sign of life-
Much awaited.
You feel old-
As youth's innocence falls away-
Slowly, leaving the lines sharper,
And the dry skin luminescent.
You trace patterns,
Along the blue veins that show up stark-
Waiting for the burst,
As you pierce the ends.
Absence or presence,
Do little to negate-
The mercurial thoughts,
That pile up as bile.
You think about the meaningless endlessness of it all.
Feeling empty,
You drain the bottle empty too.
Hoping that it would enable you to,
Lose your mind.
You think deeply about-
What all is there to leave behind-
Except some scattered footsteps,
In their aimless sojourn?
You sigh,
Longingly-
And then hush it all -
The inner voices as they converse secretly.
You let your soul go numb-
As the void settles in deep.
To see or not to see,
Must supersede to be or not to be.
You miss the effigy so dear,
But you know you must let go-
Of what's not yours,
Nor shall ever be.
As paths are divergent,
And so are the ways of mind.
You cannot hold onto something,
That refuses your ownership.
Let go and set it free-
Let the other soul fly high,
In its journey towards its own light.
With you,
It's just a shared space in darkness-
Abstract and absolute in its
Warpath of shunning the sun.
Away- it must shine brighter,
As its destiny becomes clearer-
By the daylight.
You let go,
Watch it make its way home-
Smile with all the tenderness of truth-
And wish it well in life.

The Condom Song

As the fever shoots up,
And the thermo-meter stats show temperatures insane-
All my fevered brain wants,
is to collapse and be bygone.
All my thoughts run in spiral webs-
Ruminating on the errs that wrought the human decibel.
Strange how the known becomes a stranger-
In a matter of seconds.
Dreams turn their backs on you-
As you're lost in your own wonder-
At how foolish you were-
To trust the same game.
Matter of hearts-
Bound to change-
Most remain double minded-
Choosing hypocrisy over truth.
Use and throw-
Like condoms sans protection.
The penetration is ugly as it leaves its foul mark.
I reach out for the cup of green tea getting cold-
Hunger seems dissipated from mind, body and soul.
Blank eyes stare at dead walls-
Tearless the jerks of mind - twerk about.
Tasteless the tea is thrown aside-
Just like a familiar face I greet in the mirror everyday.
Fetal position, I lie balled up-
My hedge against the ledger of brutality.
Questions rage on-
Did an honest smile deserve the charred ruins?
Perhaps did-
In this dog-eat-dog world,
Using condoms the wrong way seems legit-
Guilt-free indulgence and then confession booth training.
The spineless runs back to the known arms
To proclaim the sins of having diverted-
Unmindful of the sordid damage wrought
On the frail soul left behind.
Saving and reviving seem to light up paths to life-
Not living -
Life is just a journey where you meet people
As lessons mostly.
Dogs bless you-
There's no God above to hear your cries.
You try to wipe off memory instead.
Alone in your universe,
You fight your way through-
You falter- used and broken-
But law states that one must rise up too.
Surely, but at what cost?
A soul-dead weight walking on earth
In its lonesome song?
Rivulets break free-
Of  the kohled constriction
As the jagged ends seem more painful-
With every minute,
Existence seems unbearable.
As the smoke rises up in ashes-
Sometimes, you pray for your end
To be near too.

Lies

The world did change in  just two days,
Maybe the full face of lies had to met -
Head-on.
Bearish, maybe mulish,
The golden moments-
Now seem like shards to walk on.
Yet another end.
Yet another last laugh given away.
Trusting lies and walking on fire-
The heart is stripped bare and soul numbed.
Maybe the speech dumbed down too-
Died and frozen in time.
Weary bones carry the tiresome weight-
Irksome seems existence as it shrouds-
Meaningless.
No world without the spark of joy-
No life without the beat of a heart much unknown.
Fickle minds and cold fingers-
Reach out to scrunch me within-
Watch me die as the blue veins burst forth with crimson.
Weak and beyond comprehension,
The stooped body sinks to the ground.
No fight left
As the one much loved-
Berates and becomes quite belated.
Elated the clown looks on-
Perhaps the only shot at happiness
Did the old lined face get in her wasted years.
Sadistic bubbles burst forth-
Wrecking, heaving with spite-
They spill across to form a lake-
As the spirit drowns in its liquid ether.
Pain seems a faraway concept now-
Just that trust seems dissipated from all human form.
Careless, you mark your gait
With marked insouciance.
Without a backward look,
You leave my world shredded in your lies.
Can't believe the folly-
Yet not much unknown its familiar twinge.
Should I look back with love
And respect- that I'd always promised you?
Or should I treat all your broken promises
As your truth-
While the scars burn deep-
At your holy grail left behind.
May the fire kill my conscience-
May it be rendered blank and lost in abyss-
All the broken chords
Which we had sung once
As our song.
The innocent eyes could not
Scorn you-
For it's her habit to love and lose.
Just another day-
In the deadened soul's life.
So many questions had raged through-
None voiced to still respect the space,
Your silhouette stood at.
While the clown laughed on in conceit.
The moist eyes had looked on-
In wonder at the idiocy that the clown was-
In flesh and blood, it seemed a life-sucker.
Hands tightly balled in pockets,
Had itched to hit out at the protrusion
Of deceit.
It's love's labor lost and it's strange power,
That had beseeched my senses
When I'd fought for control
And urged myself to hold on a minute more-
Stare a little while longer at the much unknown eyes.
Eyes that the lips had fervently kissed-
Bleak eyes that looked at the figurine-
Merciless and stormy-
Pigeonholes worth poking pencils at.
Was this how it should have ended?
Without warning and some shared respect?
Carry on, the one who knew nought
The word of love.
It's too pure
For imbeciles to mostly forgo-
As they seek convenience spine-less-
Rush back home to known hearth-
Crushing hearts that are meant to die.
Funny how life mostly throws cowards
Along the way.
Men, who cannot stand up
For their belief-
As they choose what they're told to-
Pointed out the rights as they hurriedly shun the wrongs.
So easily they attribute purity to sin and weakness-
The girl must always suffer-
The perils.