Rain Man

I will contradict myself in every way, to drive you in circles

and say these words, that mean nothing to me

Maybe I was wronged; flowers don’t grow from concrete

The hidden meanings, motivational phrases,

out of context.


So advanced, double-think, nervous laughter

Pedestrians; both figuratively and literally

Every step taken is supposed to leave blisters on feet this sore

Only the morally superior, will possibly observe dementia

as a two-way road to salvation

Just as the witness becomes the culprit

For not confessing

The day to day musings, suddenly fall to place

“I have plenty. Look, I can count as many fingers

as toes” said the ruler to his foes

“I’m left-handed, is that bad luck?” When a confident man becomes conceited

There’s no going back

“I… excuse me


it wasn’t raining till you got here”

“Well, in that case,

umbrella for two?”

And just as I prayed for mud, the pavement was washed cleaned.



You whom I let escape

Your cloak

Hula hoops around your knees, a recap

You listen, just to relate

Whisper; just to misinterpret

The curtain closes on your big act

You taught me wrong

It’s not safe here, neither is it outside

People have always been afraid of what they don’t understand


You whom I let escape,

Roll these stones with you, give them pace


The child within, running away from you

A facade of neon lights gone unnoticed

As the alienated flee; a thousand follow

They worry, their hands turn to dust




Walk with me

The way you leave
Says more about you
Than from what you created in between

Like a kettle boiling water up its nose
It still manages to sing
Or the acrylics on your desk
That mixed well to re-create its steam

Or like the glass that came crashing down
For losing emotion over something you hadn’t done

Windows creaking
Birds laughing at our doors
This hierarchy
Doesn’t make sense


All this time I asked God to do something to change my life

He was waiting on me.

Sometimes a second wants to stretch to two
Sometimes a minute wants to shrink for someone asking who’

I guess
Everything paves a way
For you
To pave your own.

A subtle ascension

But that’s home,

and jasmines lose their fragrance overnight.

The Holy Spirit, should never be compared

To the spirit unfulfilled, gravely disturbed.

Maybe an amputee can tell the pain of pruning, branched trees

Persistent in their reform to grow inward, rooting soil deeper than sticks and poles

Yet, like antennas clashing with the nearest catastrophe

The human mind wants to reverse the white noise, into a state of rhapsody

Maybe a thing or two makes you think, maybe question

Have you thought of all that doesn’t?

Weaklings thinking themselves good had they lame paws

And transparent egotism, a way upward, a way away

A word or two makes you heal. A sentence that turned into a squeal

A laugh that wasn’t laughter

It is subtle ascensions like these, my comrade

That regurgitate prayer, back to the monk who took a vow of silence for his remaining life.

Slipping away

Deal with the clouds sucking back their rain
Upwards it flows, piercing flesh like darts through cloth
Laughter reached its peak, turned into a shriek
How come?

Weeds in your garden slaughtered jasmines
Only so you wouldn’t worry about watering them anymore
Their spirit, and scent, is now distilled

And you’re slipping away.

All these flimsy threads will escape the clothes they kept intact
Unwoven, simple, divergent they will lay
What was a weed, anyway?

A plant nobody planted,
A seed breaking loose, desperate to burn out, turning the rest bitter

It’s easy to find beauty in between the foldings of a rose,

But can you really find it in between cunning cracks next door?

Like used tissues, like tangled hair, like a restless glare

You are now an outsider, to the outsider world itself

Fish will keep fighting eachother, they don’t have anywhere else to go

Maybe rumblefish will headbang and turn sane


You were still for so long, air passed around you, not through you

You’re the friction a matchstick needs to light up the world on fire
And you are its exhaust at the same time

You’re climbing a ladder made of snow
Everything you touch dissolves into what’s bellow

The dust you spent years cleaning(hiding)
Will catch on to the heat and to your knees, in a desert where

scorpions will inform you before they bite, and you’ll think

they were trading venom for a life

And this mutation of the cells
wrinkled with mistakes
It’s like I’m feeding off of wisdom in between ignorance
The more I know the more I see how less I know
And these trivialities are so pure
Like a kite made out of a plastic bag, flown by a clueless child
Whose blistered hands now control his life

I love slipping in the mud
It’s like a flight on its own, doesn’t even hurt
Till quite after when you see the bruises
Isn’t that what illusion does..

And then I draw myself again, and I’m invisible


It’s like I skipped past the part where everything’s high pitched

And I only hear the lows
That’s the proudest I’ve been of my own default

And if all wrongs add up to one right
Know that there is more to this

Than you and me

Than them and they,

and us against a distant play

an illusion you will smile at one day.

A mask under a mask

For what is confusion but clarity neglected?

For what it is we do but can’t decipher

When an hour yearns for another affliction,

a massacre, a battle won, a war lost within a stutter?

Growing weaker day by day, a blow softens the skies

Its skin without skin and a naked void, masking our roots raw and guile, cruel opinion

A shadow flees from its materiality; ‘admire magic as if you were it’

Fantasies felt oblivious to the idea of creation creating creatures created for dominion

 Why blame riot and revolt for calling a caterpillar a snake with wings?

Home to trees too big, too tall, but with branches too delicate, leaves too dry

I hope this made you look at thick and thin, in a different way, not as twins

Of the same species, definitely not the same seedling you implanted, on the mind you live by

Never too far, never too attached are we

To the binding that sets our days a time to be

Where a question falls in love with its answer, an acute perception

Or grants a golden lion tamarin, a fiery heart, a roar, a chant, an applause for what it could’ve been.