ah!

"not right, not wrong,
this timeless face of yours."

the unintended

is memory the problem
or the procrastination of
keeping in mind

epiphany 0.1

it is, it is! it is possible to fall in love with, be in love with, remain in love with anyone and everyone except when the ego comes in the way.

and the ego always comes in the way.

invitation

who said this corridor is well lit, sparkly bright

no light shines at the end of this tunnel

but i'm interested enough to hope you'll keep me company in the dark

and if a mistletoe of pain awaits us

we shall kiss and then we shall part

title pending under indecision

i face the earth

you face the stars

and in our faces linger the yearning

of ageless hours

of fraught sunshine

and tangled moonbeams

and the rain choking

and the humiliated coffee bean

i smash the earth in your face

you smash the stars in mine

i go bright with disgrace

and you grow dark like the sun never shined

we claw at each other with the nails of our heart

we don't know how to part, my love,

we don't know how to part

we claw

and we wound

deliberately we beat

and we hack

and we wring and we strangle at every angle

we pull and we yank

and we slit and we stab

our follies have scarred every limb

every joint

every smile we shall smile

is stitched with a thousand lies

we groan and we moan

and we kick and we prick

and we smash-squeeze-shove-screw-PULVERIZE!

but you never die

and i never die

why all this fuss, my love,

why all this fuss

a flower loses a petal

but a flower does not bark

a flower does not bark

in daylight

or in the dark

but listen to me shriek, my love,

day and night

one loss of love, my love,

and an eternity of fright

what's left of you sits beside what's left of me

we don't know how to part, my love,

we don't know how to part

as petal-less flowers bloom in our heart

emptiness

and when there is emptiness

then there is scope for a lot of thinking

and deluding and the building of uncertainties

and then fear.

fear that precipitates,

tangible on the skin that i'd never felt before.

fear in my eyes,

behind the lids.

fear grasping, chaining my ankles.

fear everywhere - the rim that encases my glasses.

the tip of this pen that writes.

fear! fear! everywhere!

what do i do?

why does emptiness

so automatically get filled

with dark, brooding, sombre fear?

catharsis

I hate these pages

I hate what I write

Even more that I omit.

I hate myself

And I hate the core of your being.

I hate this universe

For the lack of a better reaction.

I hate everything that comes my way.

I hate boys

I hate women even more.

I hate that I'm funny

even when I'm sore, sore, sore.

I hate that I rhyme

My poetry with time.

I hate that I'm sick sick sick of myself!

I hate, I hate

And in hate I create.