Unfinished bridges

Emptying a mind

Containing too much

The human mind

Isn’t it amazing?

It can adjust a whole lot to it,

It can adjust anything to it…

And so, you do what you got to do

to give unfrequented thoughts the companionship they need

By reading someone else’s

By trying to fit, into someone else’s.


Sometimes
It’s just a craving
To wind up different clocks
You stopped looking at

They still tick
If you don’t look at something
Doesn’t it become useless?
And yet
The useless
Becomes useful
Only when it’s noticed
By someone
Getting tired
Of his own boredom

It’s pathetic
This habit
‘Beauty, only beauty, when noticed.’
I guess
I fall in love with destroyed places
Because they had once been beautiful
But tragedy happens
And not everything
Wants
To be discovered

Isn’t it true though?
people dig up past
Only when it’s dirty

Isn’t it false though?
People only care
When you care

I feel old
‘Old’
Such a small word
In a big world
And yet
You value its existence
Only when you’re tired
And want youth
To do for you
What you couldn’t do for you.
Like a bridge you built
Unfinished
Almost crossed it
Jumped near it’s end, it still needed a few more bricks
But this youth
Can’t even cross it midway
And yet
You expect them
To build another one
Because after crossing it yourself
You tore it down
And raised a flag
To signal them
That you made it

Red waves
In a sea
Red floods
In a river
The seas now cry
Bloodshed eyes
Why did you slit open a shark in half
Only cause’ you thought it dangerous?
You could’ve limited the lines!
You could’ve put a sign
DO NOT CROSS
YOU TWATS
YOU HAVE 99% OF THE WORLD
LEAVE THIS 1% ALONE

It’s sickening
The need to want to own it all
If I can’t have peace at heart
And you feel peaceful around me
Where would that leave me?
It’s like
‘Hey, I’ve had my lunch
Wanna have dessert’?
While they know
That you haven’t eaten
In three days

And the sad part is
You don’t even like the look
Of your reflection
On a crystal clean
Wiped table
While you wait
For a waiter
Waiting
For his shining armor
To turn into a suit
And sue himself
For marketing the food
He didn’t even like himself.

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Nature’s cruelty

Time plays tricks on the mind and soul
Tired of all this itching, claiming to be pure
Maybe the den can call out on all its wolves
And let the full moon mourn over the calls

of all these midnight storms

Idols want to be normal
Maybe fame wants to disappear

I wish the world was gray, but even then,

the ‘gray’ would be grayer even without colour

superior than some, darker than the sun,

lighter than from where we had once begun.

And the rest were easy come, easy go

Dust blew itself away
From books that were read but never understood
And nature collapsed on the floor, into the dirt, beneath its own roots
Asked itself if it was ready to diffuse, away from this abuse

Hunger can never kill appetite
Shame, for you were the fly going after leftovers!
The rest splashed onto oceans like cannonballs, while you only got the spits, the drops

Let’s hear the train of thoughts that went by uninvited,
Tempting the side blood brothers feared to taint

A walking contradiction
A mysterious reason to slow down, to settle down
Why settle down? When discomfort is the sweetest home
Let them be, the crazies, where will they flee?
Prejudice never stood a chance

Couldn’t resist to stare at an owl,

All this time you only wondered as to why it stared at you.

Then later, laughed at yourself when it pissed on your shoulder,

‘Man, nature’s cruel.’

And then you acknowledged the fact that

everything and everyone carried dirty little secrets…

You started wishing to swim in the mud and come out clean
To blindly remove a blindfold and suck the life out of a rabbit hole
To knock on tree trunks for ants to emerge to the surface, 
Then call an anteater to fix the ugly.

Paper plane on a stone

Wouldn’t trade it for the world

I see a paper plane

sit on a stone, commonplace, nothing grand

made by an anonymous entity

˜ ˜ ˜

It doesn’t have propellers, not even an engine, not even a life

And yet,

with a single touch of wind,

spreads itself like a drop of water

expanded

on a flat surface.

˜ ˜ ˜

And yet, so delicately,

flip, flap,

flip

and

flap

˜ ˜ ˜

Whoever made it, wanted it to stay,

even without staying

For it was attached to the stone

with a string

That too,

about to lose itself, still hanging on

˜ ˜ ˜

And in a fine moment of detachment

to be in yet out of myself

into it

˜ ˜ ˜

I looked at it

like a ghost cat

looking at the world,

in the seconds it comes to contact with a sun

it avoided

‘Beautiful things don’t ask for attention’

˜ ˜ ˜

Telling time to stop

and retrospect

to its own

distraction of flight

˜ ˜ ˜

Takes a while

to stop time

Takes a while to notice something so small

For God’s sake

Forget the skies!

They’re carved onto your own fingerprints

and you still thought you noticed everything…

˜ ˜ ˜

Do you understand?

Do you?

˜ ˜ ˜

An ant struggles when it rains

Every drop, is a grenade

dropping all the burdens

the clouds carry for us

They speak all we couldn’t

‘Shhh’ let it be

let it carry you away

˜ ˜ ˜

Just know,

that liking rain

doesn’t mean

you’re evil,

It just means

that

it’s somebody else’s turn

to soak

˜ ˜ ˜

And come out clean

to their own idea of being

˜ ˜ ˜

Maybe one day the string

like clogged veins that cause a heart attack

will cry helpless

˜ ˜ ˜

But that day

its flight will come to recede

Trying to accept that it’s not

something to keep

Without the risk, of needing to speed

when it slows down

sticking

to a stone that watches it bleed