Plague

Like a disease  it spreads in me.My nights go unnoticed.And days in a daze.My hands feel distant,Like someone else’.Like they wouldn’t do,What I say.Like they wouldn’t stroke my woes.Like they wouldn’t   hold my hollow.Tight.And everything leaks out.And my bed starts to doze off.And my table finds a corner.And curl up.They got infected.This disease,I’ve spread it…

Daze

In the dead of night, there,a dumb Nightingale played the flute well. When dreams went to scavenger hunting. And saints went to hell. When in freshly bloomed notebooks, pens scratched stories, that had nothing to tell.

Friday

The slanting sunlight was reaching this particular Friday… —All Fridays are the same! He was sleeping like a house cat. —The Friday? The Air with her long fingers was stroking his back. —The Friday is a He? He purred in between hours. —All Fridays are sleepy. The world that he was designated to, made him…

Jar Full of Lemon Flowers

—Come my way for once. —Do you like the smell of lemon flowers? —Come my way for… —In my childhood I kept a jar full of lemon flowers. —Come my way.. —And since then the smell is with me, and I can’t seem to shake it off. —Come my… —It’s like the smell has grown…

A Road Sign

A beat stops. On the corner of the street a leaf mews of monsoon. Of summer sunsets. Of crumbling Eden. Of lamenting lullabies that people sang to wrap their children in infatuations. Of worlds that don’t exist. A beat stops. Just for a moment. To catch up. I think of the cruelest thing I have…

A Scent

Happy days go by like school bells . The short-lived tempos in between classes. Too fleeting. Too fluid. Happiness is gone by moments that couldn’t be seized.  Never in present.  Always in Memories.   A scent. By the time you breathed in, it has fluttered its wings away. A scent. That you almost know the…

Memory Hoarder

These objects, things in my room…. I see them and touch them, my friends come here, they sit on the floor, on the arched sofa with the cushion in their hands, with cha-cups everywhere… I pass nights after nights wide eyed asking for sleep to the nihilistic writers. I die sometimes here just to find…