Tears

Sell my tears to the ocean that flooded your hometown once Because they are every bit as volatile.

Family: A Poem

Was it ignorant or just carefree of me to not notice The permanence of the creases on my father’s forehead until today? Was it selfish or just powerless of me to let My brother fall deeper and deeper into the abyss of obscurity? Was it unkind or completely narcissistic of me to misconstrue My mother’s…

Purgatory: A Poem

Demons shackled me, their sharp claws tearing through my lungs, Satan summoned himself from the depths of his Heaven, Tortured souls spewed sweet nothings into my eardrums, But I worshipped the Archangels of salvation. Grappling with the obsidian smoke slowly possessing my body, Carving out sigils to keep the Devil away from my humble abode,…

We Got High

So I went camping with friends. And I have never been camping before, so I guess, it is pretty predictable that I was almost completely… let’s say, ill-equipped. Absolutely ill-equipped for the thunderstorms and the unavailability of network. And to top that off, all my hopes of finding doggos were shattered when I didn’t find…

Itself Into Itself: A Poem

Connections aren’t born, they are crafted, Just like yours and mine wasn’t a match made by a superior power. When at night the stars hold more value to me than the silence, I peek at your through the blinds of nostalgia. Rivers and rivulets of brackish water, my tears, Your anguish, why are ties always…

Caskets and the Truth: A Poem

There won’t be any candles at my funeral, It’s disturbing to think that they’ll cremate my remains, Hard to imagine me and my soul gone, But imagine I do every single day. Comrades will cry, perhaps raise a toast or two, Mother will weep, brother will judge, People I knew would whisper their verdicts about…

Letters From The Museum Of Pain: Part 3

…don’t let your demons pilfer your beauty. You can fight them. I know the world doesn’t feel the flood of tears confined to your locked rooms, or the pain of mutilations on your soul. No, they don’t. They never will. But you do, and that’s enough.

Letters From The Museum Of Pain: Part 2

One of the other kids told us about his mom, about how he remembered clutching the top of her shirt with his tiny little fist, about how she would kiss him on the head and then on his nose and then on his chin and his cheeks and… about how his father drank himself to death and took his ma with him. But you ain’t dead, are you?

Collapse: A Poem

Space is an all-consuming black hole, Twinkling stars are the Trickster’s ploy, Angelic wings turn igneous once I ascend, So I plummet into the interstellar alloy. Galvanize in the cradle of darkness With nowhere to run but the very nadir, Faith is a squandered philosophy When my strength is a hopeless crusader. The nexus twixt…

Letters From The Museum Of Pain: Part 1

…it hurts me to see that you still wait for me to come home from work at a quarter to eight, that you still sleep next to my rightful place with my shirt clenched tightly to your chest and that your barely beating heart whispers my name every single moment of every single day. How can I ask you to stop the only things which permit you to see another light of the day?

Reasons to Smile: A Poem

Headaches and fatigue, prescriptions and health checks, Distracted cognition, and unexpected hysterics. Nights of terror, days of darkness, My lungs feel devoid of all the oxygen they demanded. However, I know I saw a double rainbow once While water crystallized on the edge of the city. I cringe at the thought of anyone touching me…

Butterflies are Fragile

Butterflies die if you clench them too tight. They’re fragile. It’s the small things that kill you every day. And it doesn’t happen suddenly, it is an eventual process. But I don’t think I realized before that my conversations with my father have become limited to a general yes/no dialogue about my studies and about…