So Is Life

Midnight rites,
Of dejection and despair,
Dwelling the anxious envy.

Instead of water,
I feel needles against my skin,
Seduced by an obsolete melody,
Silent whispered murmurs of memories,
Knotted around my reality.
A futile cycle of hope, and despair.
So is life.

Under the sky,
A fading violet blanketed by the brightly lit moon,
Here I am,
Drawing parallels to shimmering stars,
Assuming the ephemeral moment
We breathed had some resemblance,
To the scintillating light.

Aren’t We All Alone?

Often, all we require to embrace insanity is a good push. We either resist, and believe that somehow our resilience will make it all better, somehow, we will come out of the proverbial whirlwind we have started calling our reality, or we embrace the horror we created, nourished, and often, felt proud of. Insane minds aren’t built in a day, just like Rome. It all burns, slowly, fed with one gentle gust of wind after another, one drop of fuel after another, until all that could be consumed burns into a great blaze, only to be extinguished by the sad reality of it all. Time, the great equalizer, always runs away from us.

Do you know?

The scared little boy in that corner, yes, the one with torn shirt, bruised skin, the one who is surely of a feeble mind, was once full of life. He was careless, content with all he had, all he was provided by his parents. His mother, the iron lady, his father, the lion, they were satisfied with what they provided him. Even now, in their old days, weary and torn by life, they will say, we raised a good boy. But would they know how broken is their son? Or did they always know, but somehow, as we all do, never admitted to the fault the little soul surely had?

Aren’t we all alone? Ask him, yes, the scared little boy. Ask him, before he drifts like the wind, heartbroken, without sound, or any other evidence of life, ask him, how did it all go so wrong? Where did the innocence go? When did he burned the world around him, shattered it into pieces no one can mend, ask him when did he become the villain of this story.

If you are lucky, and somehow, through all the numbness and agony, he does look at you, I would ask you to not be sacred, to embrace the cold and lifeless eyes you would never expect on someone with a gentle face like him, I would implore you to swallow your pride, and be patient through the endless drag of actions wasted. I promise you, stay there, and even if it doesn’t make sense, listen, and believe me, as uncomfortable as the silence might get, eventually, there will be a scream.

Time always runs out on us.

Armor of Impotence

Sitting under the spell of mist,

Amplified by the luminescent light of cresent moon,

We debated the half told lies,

And we advocated the teaching of pride,

And to bolster our fragile argument

Of moulded glass,

We wielded the flaming sword of icy desires,

And the armor of impotence.

And when the silent watcher

Wished to illuminate the one thing we didn’t desire,

The flesh ashened.

The flesh ashened,

Yet we were immune to raw truth,

The flame of all that we seek,

Drifted through the air like a dandelion.

I Once Attended A Perfect Funeral

I was too young,

To either remember,

Or fathom the repercussions,

Of mortality.

All I remember,

Was the crowd,

The weather,

And the cemetery.


once attended a perfect funeral.

Perfect in the sense that,

All we associate with death,

And gloom

Was present in plenty.

I’ve been to many funeral,

None before,

But many after that.

None came anywhere close to it.

Not even in the far vicinity.

I believe

The first experience of anything is unique.

Whether it be the first time we lusted,

Or First time we realised,

The concept of mortality

Our ephemeral existence.


Via Daily Prompt: Inchoate

I Met The Devil

I once met a man,

In a field cursed,

For all I could see

Was decay,

Lifeless shrubs,

Trees withered, and in pain.

Sunken earth,

And ash cloaked charred sky.

I met him at the crossroad,

His limber body

Engulfed in a cloud of dirt,

For the wind began to stir

As we met.

We forgot,

Or maybe erased the bare necessities,

When two strangers meet.

There wasn’t any greeting,

No acknowledgement

For the presence of other,

We just stood.

Two withered man,

Unhuman, awestruck,

For each of us believed

We were the only one

With such an empty soul.

A vacant vessel.

That day, I befriended the devil,

And the devil befriended his match.


Via Daily Prompt: Frigid