As the smoke lingers

In and out, of rehab

I mean, most of the time, no one quite speaks literally.

They don’t know, they can only assume

of what it takes to shatter a soul.

What robs you of your sleep, probably, maybe, most definitely, what do I know?

Fragmented  little puzzles, crossroads of the mind.

This piano, these hands, this rusty ol’ surface.

The out of tune, the mystery yet to swoon.

You can’t mold me, this telltale realm of space, my voice metamorphosed.

The margins within are so narrow, the wisdom of things scarce.

The fear of your own oblivion, you say you wait for nothing

but the gutless in you knows, that’s what you have been surrounded with

and so the familiar comforts in its veil.

This overflow of the conventional, makes me yearn for masks

aesthetically unacceptable, it amuses me.

The joyous music, the bitter tongue.

But then again, tenderness outburst,

defies brutal rage, beauty repelled at those that sought it only with their eyes.

You stare long enough at the gush, static motion

of paralyzing waves; this sonic rumble, and you understand.

The stronger they rush, the slower they recede

The dominance in the force, a halt in the hearts

In the eternity of a second, stretchered far too long, far too far.

Passengers to the weather

Barefoot, growing raw skin, stepping on pomegranates

Their blood, a seed, torn without trace of a middle or an end

One hand tapping on a window from the inside

Another from the outside

Passenger to the weather in you

Trucks unloaded, heavy with sins

But what we foresee is like a whip lashing without sound

And others strung for a show, supposed cure for the soul

I really cannot understand, how degrees of discrepancies

Can create bonds of similitude, flames kept alive without shivering

This room is warm, yet all I confide in are stripes as patterns

Parallel lines intersecting without ever meeting, stuck

Systems complicated, not from the step-wise, but the shortcuts

A slaughter, a slow decay of eyes calling home

Bring uniformity to this, glue together what crossed its edge

Tenses of the should’ve, could’ve, would’ve are long out of such vocabulary

The finger pointing at you, actually aimed at the door

Keys hanging, it unlocked, your gaze latching at the next big bet

Exposed, you shove your head under your knees. Your plan B and C will not have to depend on A

Winning the person, losing their being

Lemon drops, in a sea of salt

Don’t know which one treats the wound better

You’ll wander, oh you’ll be out on the fritz

Looking for three hots and a flop, every day, every week

The void is meant to be a void, the stain is meant to be a stain

What we turn to stone eventually turns us into headstones

Yet, my mind is a gun jerking with its tail

Like a kite above a breeze letting the float-less float

Obey

Concrete dogmas are as fleeting as a bird
Whose nest is swept by the winds
Of a forelorn future

Dreams slain for peaceful sleep
Fingers tied for smoother handcuffs
Does it spoil the child, or does it make your job easier for you?
Obey

Streets ruptured for seeing the truth of someone, in between themselves
Feet stumbling, artists retreating into you
A cave, a stage, for blue men
A shaky voice had torn open a rift in the clouds

Snap.

Attachment is a disease
Cure only imaginary. Left untouched and it may try
And think it wants the world to lick its final cry
Don’t know what’s worse, to devour or be devoured
To lose or to let lose,
To reign only to avenge the winners
Call it a reformatory for the wicked, brutal enough

Pen turns to spade

nakedness an armour repulsing prey

Reversing time
Is possible
For all you’ve built
From machines and back to repairing screws

I tamed a wild beast
But was still uneasy
Because I was worse
Than the already worst
The only consciousness I had, wasn’t on their behalf
But because of this simple thought
That if they could ruin the world just by being
So could I

Composing symphonies
Tapping sticks and mimicking

‌A tune I learnt since I was two

Tip, tap, tippitie tappity tip titip ti boo.

Infamous praise

How many fingers should I count
Before I cut them one by one
I forget sometimes,
How some things don’t really re-grow


Just the other day
I was photographed with great admiration
In a cage
By a monkey
Who got so bored of its freedom
That it kept mine
I laughed
At how he fell
On banana peels he just ate himself


On nights
I shrunk and burst into fireworks
By chameleons getting tired of their own colours
Now white, now safe.
Had only albinos seen them, for the screams that curled their tails


Evenings passed,
I marveled at how a blazing sun
Took shade on all its pink
And mist
And chaos
Before going to sleep
Was this its way of telling
It wanted out?
If beauty and power and control
Didn’t make it want to live
Neither did I


I often lose myself
When sniffing on corners
Trying to allocate
Dust with dust
And perk with perk
I didn’t recall ever, catching pollen’s grin
So much had happened, it had forgotten its air, grain, trigger
And influence
Over those neglecting theirs


How naive was I
For the stain was on my face
And all my life, I spent tugging my mirrors clean


If you could view my face
From paper bags
And man made flasks
Would you find it funny
If I collapsed
On the floor teaching me dance?


Can somebody else ride this bike for me?
It can’t seem to stop
Pedaling away from me
As if
It wanted to escape
The rubber wanting to split
And the wheels fiercely brim
On fluctuating landscapes
It wanted to be
On its own


The hair
You tucked behind your ears
Felt like a slam on the door
By the secrets that rose ashore
that waves washed away.
Can I empty my pockets
With the stones I’ve been collecting
Trying to give them meaning over
Solid future?
Silly me, for most had gone
Through this pocket betrayed by a hole
They flew free from


And the whole world rose to its feet
When I kneeled down to my street
Too many times
Did I carve its walls
With battles I won but lost
I vandalized
And raged on meat
Using it as punch bag
To admit defeat
Far more
Did I cause alarm
Over my neighbours door
When I prank called his mother in the hospital
Telling her he was dead
I shot pigeons with creamed feathers
Because the view of their opened wings
Made me empty bottles
Which I later used to abuse
The wrists these veins explained their name on
Its dead end
Was all I kept clean
For I knew no matter what
It would still wait for me
And shelter me some sleep
And that’s when I dreamt of you
Like a nightingale with the bluest beak
Poking my head
Reassuring me
That the walls I tore down
Were already weak
They were replaced by height
That shooed away the floods
Nobody could have anticipated
That the meat I didn’t let my people eat
Was from cattle that they didnt feed
That the neighbours I disturbed
Needed to meet, all the songs they had produced
And sung
In reverse
That the flocks of beauty
I prevented everyone else from adoring
Blurred out all the skies
That had truly let them fly
And the empty bottles
Were my quill
When it wrote not on paper
But my skin


And just like that it rose
With a seed between its beak
To what I woke up
And found my distant home.

The world is fine

If people wanted to see only the things they wanted to comprehend
They wouldn’t have to go to theaters
Dumpsters would’ve sufficed

My mind
Taking photographs

Staring long enough at a distant shore
Until it reminds me of
the times I discard
Tragedy for comfort
and memory, for bliss

The most forgotten things
Swirl at their own fade
And yet
They run
Towards a spiral
That sucks their age
Only to make them
Younger again

It’s like a cloud that eats another cloud
Because it found itself irresistible
Tasted like cotton candy
But
Puked itself away
Only to
Scatter in the midst
Of pieces
Of its own flesh

Or maybe
A chair that didn’t want to be sat on
Because it was tired of kissing backs

Or fragrance
That didn’t want to be wasted
On odor of the most repulsive kind

Why do people
Have to repaint
What was painted over well at first?
Guess the need to maintain an image
with another image
onto another
makes people think, you have a dynamic personality
And that’s how master pieces are judged
‘Look, I made this mess
Into another mess
So you could see yourself in it
And stare in awe at your own reflection’

Ink
Was tired
Of pouring itself over pure sheets
And wasting itself over rotten thoughts
As if they ever benefited, the need to avoid silence
It wanted
The writers’ fingers
To dip in it
And rub a blot
Over a nose
That had forgotten the smell
Of his own ideas

Could you really
Trip on shoes you wore
two sizes big?
Than why
Do you untangle
Hair
That wants to be braided?

It takes a second heart
To rip a chest wide
And be more
But we gain what we risk
At jeopardy

It’s a twisted thought
A needle
On masses
Of communications
Controlling the whole circuit!
Turn it one way
And only one channel sings
Turn it another
And another hits a home run
Turn it up
And they want it off
Turn it low
Cover your ears
Tell them
Its the signals
that don’t work
The world is fine
The world is fine.

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.

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.