Two feet deep

Left to themselves,
In time
Will bloom,
Two feet deep.
Once put up
Though unintended
Will cut through,
Two feet deep.
It breaks my back
Through the day,
The way I toil away,
I would hang through
These but,
I don’t trust myself,
With the direction
I am going.
So, it breaks my heart
Deep into the night,
To find it won’t be long,
Long, before gone.
Before I spend it all wrong.
And lie
Under the meadows,
Two feet deep.


Lone Steps.

Walking down the road below streetlights
When its empty, chills engulfing it’s surface,
Runs down my spine, the scene of void.
Like my life laid down on stable grounds,
Sketched right in front of these very eyes.
A tree along distant sidewalk, stark alone
With its shadow taller than itself, reminds me
Where i stand, how far my roots penetrate.
A crow overhead calls, seeks my attention.
Like many have done; efforts to mask callousness.
With disregard, i flow through, my steps echo
From the effects of not being heard a long way.
Morning sun waits to be discovered somewhere,
Till then, I engulf the night air surrounding,
In smoke and move along the street.


Here again another queue,
Added to a list of queues.
A queue to laugh.
A queue to beg,
A queue to stand behind
Somebody already stationed.
Its a summer behind their backs,
Panicking hands thrust in hope
To be felt heavy when laden.
Its a winter inside our hearts
With mouths parched dry,
Tongues swollen in quicksand.
We don’t speak as we queue.
Basic etiquette, we agreed upon.
To keep mum till it suffocates
And then we will just lean on.
Hatred is a heavy word
People stay away from it,
Most of the times, at intervals
Go and distort the definition
Of love itself, to suit colours.
To match patterns they wear.
To blend and believe we outshine,
From those who chew through
Straight up from the grounds.
Beating about the bush
Goes a long way in the short run.
When it comes to a meaning,
There we go avert. Reason,
Awaiting to be uncovered,
Autumn to be appreciated.
A queue to be waited upon.

Sad Soul.

Sad Soul.

I am a sad soul though.
The winter sleeps
Cuddled up in my arms,

She is my baby,
One of a kind.
I run my fingers,
Through her silvery strands,

Misty dew upon her hair.
Spring had promised me,
To reach to my lips,
Through the way that first
Leads through my heart.
But I am a sad soul though,

And I caged my heart,
When I pin down my eyes,
I see grace,
Cold blaze of her skin,

My winter.
Her hands are cold,
My feet numb,
How I can move on?
God forbid,
She bears me down
To stand still,

Down to the core,
I succumb to her.
Sweet play of mystery.
Fall had promised me,
To lift up my spirits
With golden leaves ushering.
But I am a sad soul though.

And it’s silver, rather,
That suits me.

A song to feel


I met a boy one night,
Little rough around the edges,
Falling at times, stiff otherwise,
While trying with all his might
To climb up the stairs,
He dreamt to lay down for himself.
He broke it down to me,
That nights could be beautiful,
If you let them sink into
The company of whole of your mind
With the half of something else.
Knowing someone needs your thought
To fall asleep, could be a lullaby.
It’s not for the touches,
But I would have loved him if I could.
I stayed with him till morning rose
Noticing the egdes melt,
It’s beautiful when the words snow.
It’s warm if someone let’s you in.
I would have loved him if I could,
For he sang me a song,
I could feel.

Confessions of a depressed.

Last night felt like fiddling with the stove.
So cooked up a meal for two to myself.
But ended up taking those pills instead,
Two in a row, the meal covered alone.
They say I am a chronic, but i feel
The grief always acute, see it everytime,
The same pangs, the same endings.
No matter where the beginning ,even
When it starts at the end and extrapolates.
End of conversation I guess, is way fatal,
Than none of it. There’s a certain scare,
Of getting frozen. Of who will freeze first.
Always a race to the end of it to imagine
The fall ; be pushed or even worse –
Slip by self. Thus, I withdraw beforehand.
They will say I go out of sorts at times,
But its the tendency to overthink-
To find reasons for the lack of sleep,
Every other irrelevance included.
So I fiddle way past midnight
To find reasons
To take those pills instead.





Falling out

screenshot_2017-09-19-16-35-43-289_com-instagram-android.pngDon’t you feel often?
My breath against your face?
Then ,why is it that each time
I kiss you unaware,
You taste of wax.
You melt into me, I agree,
But you don’t burn.
You lay on my arms
Crooning, to discover
The sparkle of love.
Did I steal away from you,
The joy of recklessness?
Tell me what does lust sound like,
The thrill of romancing a bad boy?
Or the coziness of a good girl’s faith?
Tell me, what made you this lax,
The lack of insecurities?
Or your gradually
Falling out of it?


What is it that you want.


The mellow glow by the lamp post ,
Is going dull.
The place where I stand every evening,
Before I run to the supposed fire of my life,
Is burning out, night after night.
Is it because I am too engrossed
That I never noticed it before?
Or is it because I’m lost?
..Into the cranking of wheels,
Between the squabbling of meals.
Into a word called love,
Am I trapped?
I am already knee deep into life,
I know, but are my hands muddied too?
I look up, I see the darkness and clouds.
The moon washed and faded a long ago,
Tired of shining with a sheen borrowed
Upon the same, scarred face.
Never showing the side we don’t know.
I take the time now, I see the moon ,
I see the lamp post, I see me.
I look down at my feet that
Already started growing roots,
Longer than the shadows
From the dimmer light overhead ,
And in my mind I hear it ringing,
Is this all that you need?
What is it that you want?
What is it that you want?


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