Eyes wide open

Keep your eyes wide open

People indifferent to injustice

Should not plead against it

Gargling with salt water

Will fix your throat

But not your absurd speech, not your loaded tongue

Saving one life, saves the world entire

But killing oneself, is just killing yourself

A sack of pollen thrown at someone choking on asthma

Two vendors opposite each other sell their sport

Miser is he that collects the misery of the world

Like a coin permanently glued to the floor, fooling a tramp

An inferno built by the same hands that stroke a waxwing’s head

It wasn’t cleaning its beak, it was erasing your mistakes

It was sweeping off the dust from a hundred n’ fifty decks

Tell me again why I should paint my wall to cover a crack

School me again on how I need to watch my back

Damaged by arrangements between the sadistic and its fruitless well

Pull me up by the throat with a needle

Carve it in and pull it out

Take a pencil, show me how to spell my most intimate shout

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Hysteria

Choosing to stay afloat
on a mirage of ghosts that were supposed to stay unseen.
To the openness of day
and closeness of the dark.
By dawn
How untimely
To overwhelm each other with a
yearning to scorn
And spit
at another croaking insect
For digging up its own hole
And crying at its own funeral
We can’t feel remorse
Atleast pity the pity, no?

º º º

Lately,
magnets have been pretending to be stones, you know?

The rarest gems in the world were once stones,

Some you break in half to undress wisdom

Some you see through, to really see at all

Some you leave there lying, as if they weren’t already dying

º º º

Use and abuse the small, collect this pocket-fit, nameless cause

Prolonged superstitions, how long till you pile this desire

to want to own the way they crawl?

º º º

Teach me worth, and I’ll teach you value

º º º

I can’t hold this quill any longer

It stabs and stings

like a porcupine

to these whispers
As they scribble
All the screams
I can’t understand
And yet
Want you to understand

A blend of euphoria

Hysteria, my friend

a whirlpool as I see it…

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.

Perfume

My hands. Five fingers,

yet not enough to comb a lion’s mane when it roars.

Guilty for stripping a rose naked of its chores

of making perfume

in the disgust that we sow

Not enough to get a firm grip on leaves that

crumble when autumn howls.

Not enough to tap my fears on a piano, that speaks for me.

I didn’t even have the courage

to move them.

I didn’t even let it sing for me.

Too late to plunge in to a tornado and fight to let the current spit me out,

or let it spin and spin

till it mournfully wins, for letting me be

by not letting me be

Inside me somewhere like a plane that took off earlier than its time, but

thanked the Lord for this unintentional pride.

The storms were sweeping by. We can hear them cry, for their misery is their own now. Got to go our own way, passengers, got to leave. Got to stay gone.

What if we keep all the wrappers, of all the chocolates we’ve ever eaten?

Instead of tossing them away, letting them roll

till they’re shut into another cycle, another break.

They’re stepped on, ripped, maybe even chewed by an animal that

forgot its awaiting fate.

Isn’t that what we do to people?

Suck the sweetness, fill the hunger,

on to the next one my friend. Our stomachs won’t be full for long.

Silly little thing, he saw the front but didn’t use his peripheral view.

The line was three-dimensional, and he was surrounded on all fours.

One moment here, and another he was gone. ‘I followed the wrong way’.

It’s like I’m reeling in to pure chaos, and I love it.

A decimal to a number I can count as one.

I’m infinity molded into one. I feel nothing, and this nothingness means the world to me.

You were caught off guard, this time by your own goosebumps.

Hold on.