I Have an Old habit of Travelling To Odd places -The Ones where Bushes are alive but seems dead, The Ones where bird scream their Heart out on those heavy mornings But will turn quiet In seconds, The Ones where the Luggage will Force my knees to move but at the Same time will turn Numb, The Ones where Dawn will witness Light but at the same time welcomes Darkness,The Ones where Dusk creeps me out even when the torch is sleeping soundly Within that sling and at the same time Makes me smile with the weird fireflies Making a way for me to brighten the Night!!
I Have an Old habit of falling for The Broken Souls - The ones who Had witnessed series of Rejections and heartbreaks I had this habit when one monsoon I stumbled upon a grey hoodie and Beard that I still pen poetries about The Monsoon of 2007 Drenched Me into the Hues of mysteries That his eyes held and how those Mysteries were imprinted into the Diary of confessions and how Silly of me to Read them sitting Under that Moonlight, Of how expectations supplied Him carbon dioxide, Of how He turned out be a bad Son!! Of how he turned out to be Failed lover !! Of how the Professional Degree captivated him away from his Dream of being a Painter!! I fell in love with that dejected Soul, I fell in love with the Fuzzy wind, I fell for a Soul broken so badly, I fell for the Thorns imbedded In the Grey hoodie and I was kissed By the Stuble so deep.
I Have an Old habit of falling for The Shady Poets, The Poetries of whom will Turn the tongue Sour and Put the heart at Risk I had this habit from the time When I Realised I need some Seriousness in life -With that I mean When I turned "20 + 5 ".How the Dark Poetries by the Anonymous Poet Invited my sleep to sleep with them!! How the Heartbreaks coloured In dark Pink in that poetries invited My Heart to feel the touch of pain for once!! How the Rides of love with the Bourbon Touch running within the veins of poetries Invited the Scotch running within my throat To Hide the anonymous rides of Secrets!! How the Crispy notes the ones which the poetries left me to read when the clock strikes 1:30 am!! How the Poetries by Mr anonymous turned A Permanant home after facing the reckless storms!! How the Strawberry Ink drenched in his Poetries Made love to the Blues of my Writings.
Marshmallows are my companion From the time when the Milk teeth Left me to Never visit me again to The Time when the Dentist Appointments turned sweeter & They have always been like a Secret diary Breathing the Darkest and the Deadliest secrets Winters turned its suspicion mode On whenever It enters our home, Of how Marshmallows turned Silent from the constant bickering!! Of how Marshmallows Started to Gobble up the Secrets one by one & Stops with the Blink of an eye!! Of how Marshmallows Turned sour When the December prepared that Lengthy questionaire with a frown On its seasonal forehead!! Of how the secrets sleep in the Embrace Of Marshmallows -From first breakup To How I broke someone's heart, From the Fight in the Middle school, To How i Fight with my Demons.
(They still sit with me on the same bed And They still let me share my secrets)
Grilled sandwiches and me Were never on good terms Till 1st september,2007 Then One summer when The Heat started to prick my Naked arms and the Moles of Neck and On the left side of my face Do i remember - Yes i do!! When the Famous bakery in town Held my hand and ushered me in With so many smiling sandwiches Looking at me with hopeful eyes But still i ignored their Cute little Smiles but when my first love Entered the bakery with the Chef's Cap and Then I remember how Those Freaky grilled sandwiches Smirked at me and then how He asked me to try his own Creation -The freaking grilled Sandwiches(Who were thinking inwardly That they won -Maybe because they did) That day the taste sounded different, That Day taste Smelt different, That Day Maybe I turned different.
(We still grill sandwiches together, But Now with me being the house chef)
Hot cocoa witnessed my super high's And super low's When one autumn In the Middle of nowhere the So called Society dumped so many questions On my Dignity and My self respect With me being the centre of attraction (Me being the Clown) When the Darkest night came into My Room and Blew off all the Lamps And Lights that never left me alone From Childhood (That could never be Counted a s childhood) The hot cocoa Resting on the side table Started to warm my sleepy hands and the hot air started To sprinkle the seeds of Dreams in my brain, Of how it turned out to be the Blanket in that Hot as well as cold night and how it burnt The Bridges where the people stood asking Me about my useless existence. Of how when it touched the sour throat Turned the Little tasteles particles Warm from the Coldness that the throat Is throwing on them.
(Hot cocoa still gives me the same warmth That it gave me when the lights were turned off)
The Mushrooms came in spring, With bag on its head carrying a list Of dreams i had dreamt but forgot When the childhood left me with The anxiety and depression of teens Of how many times the Psychiatrist Forced me to Spill out the pain that Is eating me from years!! Of how many times I lied constantly To the Psychiatrist and to myself Of being mentally fine!! Of how many times the grass hated my touch!! Of how many times the Leaves cocoon themselves When the shadow of mine crosses them!! Of how many times the Clocks stood up on their feet to run away from waking me up from the deep slumber!! Of how many times The Nights gave me The Handkerchief when they turned wet From crying at 2.00 am!! Of how many times I agreed that I have lost my mind!! Of how many times No one came to Take me to the Graveyard( I guess that is the place where the dead sleeps peacefully). Of how many Days and Nights Turned their back on me,!! Of how many times I gave up!! Of how many times!!
(They still come every year with that list, But Returns when the list stumbles upon the bin)
At 9, When Wrinkled Clothes Accused me of Imperfection I burnt that thin piece of cloth With Dad's favourite lighter With Fire turning its Anger mode on. I remember how The Clothes Sprinkled the Dead Pieces of Cloth on my hand leaving me With a Regret and an accusation "At the age 09,I Accepted the tag Of being bad in the Wrinkled story Of Crumpled and Dead Clothes".
(Age of Regrets and Wrinkled Present)
At 12, When Winters kissed my Knuckles Before its departure and With the Heavy head I bid adieu to Witty winters With Lemon juice in One hand that was Injured when I broke the Glass -The one I had in my room dressed up in the vase Gifted by Mom on the Birthday of her Favourite child that She always denied. The Shattered glass Ripped the skin Of the Feet (The Pink turned Scarlet). For Once I felt i won't be Crowned with The Tag of being a Bad Person - Winters laughed out loud on my Teary face With the Frozen crown in its wings "At the age of 12, Broken pieces of glass Glared at me for stopping their breathing Process"
(Age of Getting Crowned With the Frozen Crown of Accusations)
At 16, When So called "First love" Entered My home from The Balcony after crossing The Border with so many Security forces standing in Front of the Large gates of The So Called home made Me feel alive for the first time, With the First kiss wrapped In the Box of Bournville And The Candies full of Orange and Strawberry flavour Of how One day all the Phone calls From 2 hours turned to few seconds long, Of How one by one he Broke the wires Of the heart and How he finally broke me. Of How the heartbreak first sounded Grey Then turned into the pool of Maroon. Of How the Feelings stopped feeling the Air that Ran behind me. I was trying to not to be bad in this story Remember how I slapped the hell out of you In front of that Whole School that Crowned Me as the Bad person and You as a victim.
(Age of gulping the Candies of Pain alive)
At 20, When I planned to Finally Run away From the Mess I have created After That Bubblegum accident at the college How those Two best friends started to Hate my existence with leaving me Alone to drown into the 2.am Black Coffee and How the Seniority took Advantage when the Touch full Of Garbage and Filth Gave me chills Till today with the Nightmare Sitting in front of me Even in The Mornings when even the Silky Sheets touch my bare arms and the Naked Legs giving them the Goosebumps of Pain. Of How the Stares full of "She is insane" Drank the Veins trying to live. Of how after months of Convincing The Travelling trip (How naive i was to think That for once i will live) Turned into a living Nightmare when Forced kisses full of ice Were thrown onto me Leaving me numb With my Poetries screaming in agony. Again i turned bad in someone's story With the Knife in one hand Gave him The Scars on his hands and the Head With which he tried to Touch and Spread His filth on my body.
(Age of Keeping quiet and Colouring oneself In Filth)
At 25, I surrendered, Myself to the Depression Allowing it to live within me To keep me safe from the touch, The Filth that corrupted me I Surrendered......
(I am a Bad person, I Tried to Stop the Breathing I Tried to Strangle my Thoughts that wanted to live I am a Bad person In My Story as well)
Until this D-A-T-E My Poetries were Virgin Dressed up into 8-9 layers of protection, 15:09 -When my poetries stumbled Upon the Dark and Mysterious poetries Of Yours -They started walking in the Direction of your footsteps with Your Poetries walking In front and mine At behind and They Gasped looking At the Speed your words were travelling And Once they Reached the Doorsteps Of Your diary -Your poetries asked mine To Enter the Crispy house of Emotions And My poetries did Entered unaware of the Emotional Trauma they were about to dance through.
Of How my words surrendered their soul, In the Hands of Metaphors your poetries held And the Ones they tagged as crown in their poetries, Of how under that Dusky shelter, The Layers of heart were Taken off With the Promises (That will never be fulfilled) And the Confessions (That were never true) Of how the words started to Shrink And Tried to settle in some corner of the pages Scared and Feeling Loved at the Same time Of how they Confessed under the stars and moon That were pasted on the pages of your diary To keep an Illusion of L-O-V-E. Of how the Truth written N-E-V-E-R/ L-I-E On the Top of that Grey page Lied again and again On the face and When My poetries turn back To their original positions after Trying to Heal the Pain of Grey scars.
Of How the Kisses full of love turned aggresive With Scarlet Queen find its real home- On the Lips of poetries,Of How the Hugs full of care Turned the Back into the hues of Dark blue marks,Of How the Pages turned Numb from the Darkness your every single word held, Of How The Eyes of your poetries Filled with Petals of lust-The Ones that Claims to hold the Ocean of love,Of How the Poetries hands Tried to captivate the Injured wrists With a bundle of Rope,Of How the Nails ripped the skin on the arms, On the Legs that never stood after that, On the Stomach that never Spoke after that, On the Back that Has been Numb from years, On the Face that's been burning from ages now.
Night passed but the days after the torture That you claim as love -My Poetries tried To drown into the White liquid termed "Poison" My poetries tried to strangle themselves With the Nib of My senseless pen, My Poetries tried to jump in the Ocean Of Melancholy but the attempt failed.
-My Poetries are trying to survive, Because You killed them When they were living.
Some days are some days!! Tasteless,Boring and The ones That Freak you out even when You were looking at the trees of Oranges -I did freaked out when On a sunny day -A sunny orange Decided to fell on the Curls That took 2 hours to get comfortable On my head and then that Orange Monster made them shriek loudly.
/I Freak out when the Oranges stares back at me//
Some days are some days!! You fell out of words and Some days words fell on you With the Feelings filling Their cones of Ice cream Full of Insanity and Heartbreak Words turned Numb when The Crispy cone of hope started To break slowly and slowly in bits. The Fingers fought for years To Write that One word Which will turn the events of life, Which will turn the Breathing normal.
//I fail on that "Some days" -I really do//
Some days are some days!! I try to feel the feelings, I try to Keep them in the Pockets of my pants, I try to Hold them long in the Plate of Berries, I try to Mix them in the Strawberry juice and Drink The entire juice in seconds or sometimes in minutes, I can't hold the Breathing for long, I try to breathe underwater with water blessing me With Excessive Salt that I gulp everynight when i drink tears when I drown in memories. I try to Eat the Air that surrounds me On the days when the Naked soul Tear the senses apart leaving me numb, I Try to Kiss the Scars on the fingers, From excessive writing -Writing of Links that will link the Boundaries of My Broken soul with a Fixed soul.
//I Guess the Pockets of My pants are torn//
Some days are some days, When Love stories break the tissues When Death screams in my ears loudly, When the Depression takes birth in daylight, When the Anxiety Interwines my hand in its, When the Pillows don't let me cuddle, When the Pen tries to leave me alone, When the Books Rips my soul in thousand pieces, When the Headphones don't let me hear the Lyrics, When the Water bottles don't let me drink the last drop of water - Thirst for love will never die.
1)Of how you spent nights staring at the Posters pasted on the wall (Atleast posters can call the wall their home).The Scissors never thought you are arguing back, The Razor lying in that corner never abused you and the Pills never made you feel as if you were some mistake.You never had someone who could have listened to your 2.am suicidal thoughts.You never had someone who could have suggested you to consult someone who could help you.You never had someone who can take the pills out of your hand and threw them away in that bin where your hands can't reach.You never had someone with whom you can discuss the queries you have from the early childhood to the adulthood that everyone claimed to be perfect.
(Try to listen to the sound of Posters -The One's with the motivation quotes and the One with N-O//T-O// S-U-I-C-D-E// Pleading to you to throw the Scissors away and to stop yourself for giving the authority to someone to rule your mind)
2)Of how you spent Your days alone with the scars resting on your wrists wrapped up in the bandage and the one that was changed everyday depending on the Harm you caused yourself for satisfying others.The Badge of Weird that they had gifted you Walks with you from day to night killing you with the praises and then how you go for a walk to release the pain that is ripping your apart with every second but then the trip back home how you return with a packet of blades and then making them sleep into the cabinate to wake them up at midnight to find solace when they'll touch the pink skin.
(Try to listen the sound of the skin that's been pleading to you to not rip it apart)
3)Of how you spent the hours with the unfair afternoons when the Anxiety holds your hand and tries to push you into the hole of misery.When you keep the bottle of pills handy and how you tremble when a known face tried to make a long conversation with you and how insecured you feel when so many smiling faces tried to contact you.How your breathing starts to get weird when you see a happy family walking in the park.The Pills never made you feel as if you are some mistake as if the pill never wanted you to gulp it.Atleast the Pill don't let you feel unwanted just like they do Riding on the bike of silence for the whole year.
(Try to listen to the sounds the pills made as if crying to stop you from gulping them because even they know You deserve to live and not to die)
The unwanted thoughts will keep running until and unless you'll put a fullstop on them.Until and unless you'll sprinkle the Spray of -Y-O-U//D-O-N-T//C-A-R-E Somedays you'll feel lost but try to give 1% to the positivity in this game of hide and seek and let positivity find you.Try to listen to the silence -I agree you don't go along with the smiling faces and the People or the one's claiming that they are so closed one's but try to Breathe the Motivation quotes that are planted in the posters or The one's you read to make yourself better -Read them more.
Days will come when you'll feel that -This is it.Exactly this has to be it but not the Time that you calculated every night that you live for but calculate the time with a due date of you to stop those things hitting you hard on the shell of your heart.Days will come when you'll Feel that the Razors were not doing well and the Blades started to get comfortable with you -Pick the razors and blades and throw them into the Bin -Don't wait for someone else to do that.
//Stop giving someone else the Right To break you, To make you, Your Life is yours to Live & Not theirs to Take Remember, That the sun waits to sprinkle sunshine on you, The Moon waits to drench you into the light of Positivity. "Just give a chance" Try to believe in the process of Believing yourself Try to Fight because You won't get a life to live Twice//
There's not much blood in my veins. Coursing through my recesses, you would find the most unlikely remains of my ruin.
Somewhere down my throat the diluted blood would smell of absinthe that definitely wasn't meant to be neat. Another few steps away you might even catch The dying echoes of orchestrated moans that masked a lifetime of refusals
Somewhere near my lungs, You'd smell stale cigarettes and week-old pot. You'd find ashes. You'd find smoke. You'd know that my insides are as stale as my breath.
Somewhere inside my guts, You'd hear an empty retching You'd feel the heat of boiling acids. And you'd know that unlike my heart, my stomach isn't accustomed to emptiness yet.
The deepest layers of my skin would murmur about the abrasion on the surface. And if your presence in melancholy enough, They would let you see my bruised self. And thus you'd know, That I'm shabby at pretense.
Further down the trail of darkness, Buried amidst half lived dreams and rancid pizza, You'd find the parts of me that escaped the wildfire he left me in.
Somewhere inside me, in the parts that haven't yet given in to the darkness, You'd see how impeccably I've charred my innards into his resemblance.
Maybe you'd say I've loved him with all my heart, and my heart isn't accommodating enough of me. I wouldn't deny you that, For if I could, I would stay up all night painting him onto every surface I could, in a crimson that wouldn't ever fade.
I don't remember myself anymore I can see my shadow on the floor It just give me hints As to who I was before. I stand near the door Absolutely unsure Terrified and lost. My mind cold as the frost I don't remember myself anymore. This shadow of mine To it questions I raise But I guess it's just empty without a face. I see a path before me On it I walk with doubtful steps Trying to find any trace Any previous memory that I can embrace. The wind trying to get close May be my identity it knows . I see a dry leaf fly beside me It looks familiar. It looks quite like me Wandering around and unclear. There's heaviness and pain Under my ribcage Guess I have been through a painful stage Heart moves slowly with uneasy beat My steps are hazy and weird seems the feet. Don't know why tears galore Moving in my eyes like waves on shore. Sometimes they splash and my cheeks they explore. And I am afraid that I don't remember myself anymore.......