everything needs a glitter now. 
clothes and necklaces, cars and watches,
glosses on the lips, tags and bracelets. 
i see a generation around me chasing,
clout and respect without earning grit. 
i see a generation being ignorant
and mute in a society on the skids. 

i see fathers and mothers slaving away. 
i see my own parents breaking their backs
to make way. we live inside an epidemic
of spineless workers and cheap influencers.
turning on their phones, shutting their eyes
to find some colors. yet, the eyes yearn to see some
blues. toes beg to feel the grass. the skin aches
for another skin. ears long to hear someone sing. 

i was 5 when i entered the compound. learnt 
the created differences between boys and girls. 12 when i heard
the abuses. 14 when i learnt the connotations. 17 when
i got out of it. 18 when i caught the feelings. 19 when i broke
my heart. 20 when it all made sense. i saw money and fame, 
power and differences, classes and castes,colors and cosmetics. 
all kinds of cages to trap ourselves. everyday reminded me of my 
place. my parents thought the most expensive is the most giving. 
i found it to be the least. a happy kid who liked to draw and sing. 
clothed in uniform colors. flightless, without wings. 

son, what do you look for?
an escape. a light outside this tunnel. 
you keep blaming the cold world outside, 
but have you ever looked at yourself?
was i born like this? will i die the same?
am i not made by your cold world itself?
you talk of washing the gore. but
you'd have stayed blind, had you not bathed in it.
your gore is drowning me. i see red everywhere. 
so do I, son. so do I. 

i was 7 when my father raised his voice at me. 8
when he hit me on the face. i remember my mother
crying in the corner at 16. her tears glimmered in the
darkness. father stayed silent in his corner. i tried consoling
her. she brushed me off. lost my innocence. a rage grew 
inside me. i heard "divorce" echoing around like a greeting
word. family feuds, lost friends, insecurities rising, i wanted 
to get out. forget everything. kill my memory.
kill myself.

a world of fabricated streams and microwave memes. 
bodies and minds sunken between beds and screens. 
gazes spoiled to look for mini skirts. hands carmine 
ready to spill innocent blood. families and communities
splintered in variables. what is the cause when we bleed 
while they make all the dollars? no, you are no saint or messiah.
you don't have the answers. you can't put out the fire. but you must 
take off the disguise. the sun burns in your chest. 
you must break this vice. 

is my rage unjustified? is my anger provoked?
am I turning the mirror on the world, being too
blind and woke? is it my lack of efficacy that makes
me wanna hate? is it my lack of empathy that haunts
what i create? am I too stuck up in my room? am I 
living in a world of headlines? is my call uncalled for?
or are you pretending everything's fine?

i'm not a travis bickle. i don't play the victim card.
i am god's lonely man who doesn't believe in god. 
my soul burning in rage. this cannot be watered down. 
shots have to be fired by somebody. look in the mirror
now. try to draw yourself. the man inside hasn't lost; 
he's waiting to get back his shape. no time for excuses.
no space for fake influences. get out of your self. 
reincarnate.

i have been going through something
for how many nights I have lost count of. 
i wake up in my dreams 
to the shrieking cries of a child 
poisoning my sleep,  
suffocating my mind. haunting my peace. 

every night, when i shut my eyes 
lost in the calm of darkness 
i wake up in ominous scenes 
to vain sounds of longing. 
a prayer of letting go.  
i grieve different. 

do you remember me?
what i look like? 
the roof of my voice? the color of my eyes?
do you remember me dreaming of you?
so many times
so many places
people and smiles
city nights and skylines. 

i used to sleep better with you
visiting my world of my lies. 
and what did you do?
you burnt everything.
gore in the river, embers in the air.  
why did you do it?
why did you let me down?
why did you let yourself down?

cursed clouds shade the sky
crying out their hearts
on a house set on fire.
a house that sheltered ties 
of love and laughter. 
of smiles and tears. 
i stand underneath it
dancing in the ashes of my memories.

i look down on at me. 
my hands red from life
seeping out of the torn seams
that once held my open wrists. 
i have sinned. 

i am tired. 
my entire body is a worn out feather. the slightest gust of wind. i break.  
i crumble at the lightest touch. the softest cry. my eyes thirst for colors.
locked inside my room. stripped off from the outside. 
my ears long for voices. a distant voice calls in the night.
someone far off, singing in disdain, crying out for someone to take them to heaven.
i try to brush it off as a bad dream, but the words get louder.
is it a dream?
sometimes, i feel the voice rising within me. my neck fills up with air. 
i am sinking. gasping for breath. kicking my bedsheet. slashing my pillows in torture.
the trapped air erupts.
i come back to life again.
these nights haven’t been kind on me. a darkness lurks in the corners, coming closer with every passing hour.
and every night, without fail, a figure stands tall, looming inside. 

like a jewel unworthy of mortal sight. 
fearing that i couldn't lose to none. 
i buried you in my letters and poems.
in my unfinished novels.
in sketches and paintings.
i wrapped you in the scribblings on walls.
in the creases of my clothes.

you talk of growth and rising
but i see a corpse stooping low. 
resembling a ghost.   
is this what you wanted?
is this the dream that we shared?
is this the jewel i hid in my pieces?
or am i living a nightmare?

i look in the mirror. a corpse stares back at me. 
a face drained of life, cheeks drawn in to the bones, eyes devoid of light. 
i grin. the figure stays still. motionless. 
i raise my arm to see if this is real. the figure stands unwavering.
i take a step back. it stays still. 
i search its face. its eyes, carrying a depth invisible to my reach.
i can only look inside them. not through. 
it stands still. resolute. i keep pacing back. 
the lights turn on. the darkness evaporates.
i see me again. the figure has disappeared. 
something tells me that this might go on forever. 
i have lost my reflection. my body. 
my self. 
like no one at all. 

last night,
i woke up in the quiet.  
without cries breaking my sleep
or a sea of tears drowning me inside.
  
i looked in the mirror
to see face myself
my eyes are wet, 
dried traces on my cheeks.

i scrub my face and hands. 
the sink water turns vermillion. 
shades of my cardinal wrists.
i wash the color, only to bleed more. 
it refuses to wash off.
i hear a cry again. 
it's him.  

will the gods listen to my confessions?
will time hold space for my sins?
will nature water down the color of my stains?
will my heart drown to the depths of my dreams?

a child with a bloodied blade
hands bathed in crimson red. 
robbed of his holy smile
cursed in time.

join me, he says. 
join me in the salvation. 
let go of your temptations and suffocation. 
your shackles and chains. 
your excuses and their pains. 
live beyond this punishment. the truth. 
cut yourself from all of it. 
cut your self. 

i grieve different.

how long do I have to shelter you
in the far corners of my heart
for your presence makes them darker
slowly seeping into my veins, my blood
how long do I have to keep you in me.

Grief says

but I never left you
I have always stayed in here
In the corner of your heart
In your beating blood and veins
and I have kept it together
stitching together the torn seams.

but I have bled so much
on nights when my skin couldn't bear you
when you couldn’t hold me together
I have let so much out of me.

my heart feels like one of its corners
like an empty vase with no flowers
a room decorated without people.

is it my fault?

am I the cause or its outcome?
am I the darkness your heart feeds on
when there’s no light?
or the vial of poison it seeks to empty
when life is short of any sweetness?

but I am tired now.

I am tired of the whining and crying
of the glass breaking and the hair pulling
I have become dead in living
a walking corpse
a skin wreathed in time and memories

I might be the heaviness you talk of
the veil of silence shading your lungs
the cloud of pain around your soul
but I am not a corpse
I am not the skin you are ashamed to wear

I am alive. more than you. 
what has died is in you.
a rotting flesh. meant to be burnt.

but how can I take away my own skin?
how can I cut through my own flesh?
how can I bleed myself any more?
when I have bled so much
held together by fragile seams
knitted coarsely by shivering hands.

“take a knife and stab me”
my Heart says.

puncture me with holes 
so they fill up with the air of life
that you so desperately seek
let my blood be splashed across your soul
a broken canvas stained in red.

I dream of a bird
a bird forced down from flying
its wings nailed on the pale wall
that were meant to brush off the air
and fly above the gust.
but now they are bleeding
broken, shattered, discarded
framed in a box, meant to look beautiful.

am I not a paragon of pain?

                                                              buy me a coffee

sit by the window side
and let the tears pour down
like the gleaming raindrops
rolling down the cracked walls
making playful puddles on the ground.

look outside, and find
the colors from your dreams
take your eyes away 
from the monotony of your room
and rejoice your sight.

the clouds have opened up
the rays have broken through
get out of your sheets
and feel the sky above
and the earth beneath.

listen—
to the voices around
of the past, of the future.
but don’t talk to them.
talk to your own heart
the one by your side now.

and if it feels overwhelming
and the thoughts get heavier 
than the storming clouds
then let it rain once in a while
let the drought in your soul break
let the rivers of your heart fill up
and rise again.