Afterhours

I don't know you at all.

After waiting for so long in the dark of the dark

Spent and retired

In the odourless jar 

of Hope

Chasing the winds has been easier

Perhaps, because I needed it less

But unlike you, it always caressed

I don't know you at all

After waiting for so long in the dark of the dark

For a whisper that shook the universe,

Once upon a time.

But today, barely moves the sand.

Birds chirped, their babies perked

But the moon in your eye 

Was far from being lit up

I don't know you at all

After waiting for so long in the dark of the dark

Remembering the ebb and tide

Of memories

On which we sailed our boat

And made it travel far and wide

In the only direction, it knew then.

Upstream

I don't know you at all

After waiting for so long in the dark of the dark

Unguarded and unsafe

In the reckless head

Of mine

Where I made a drawing of you

And placed you gleefully

Right next to the red star

I don't know you at all.

After waiting so long in the dark of the dark

And now, the hollow ghost of the wait

Haunts every part of me

Like the undeniable truth of existence itself

Begging for an answer

In lieu of my

peace

Fart for the day

Asking for a group selfie is akin to asking for a bar at workplace. Everybody wants it, but is wary of being judged. 

Sketchy stuff here.

Porch

"Go away, I can't go on living on with you. I know, this is going to hurt a lot but there is no easy way out", she says it without a hint of reluctance or guilt in her voice.

"Look, it's not like I like you too much to put up with your insanity but I don't have a choice. Do I?"

"I don't need you".

"You do!. How many times, will we go through this huh? It always ends in the same way".

"That's the problem It always ends up in the same way". She mumbles, while lighting a Dunhill Lights.

"Hey, please don't smoke again. You're damaging yourself"

"Not any more damaging than having you around".

"Alright. I wouldn't say a word on this".

"You actually heard me this time. Wow", she replies after exhaling a long wind of smoke.

"Are you trying to be funny now?"

"I am not trying to be anything".

He whistles her favourite song. It instantly has a calming effect on her.

"I really like this song".

He continues to whistle unmindfully,

She looks into the vast expanses of her porch. Feeling weightless. As if someone just lifted an elephant off her chest so she can finally breathe. For once, not under water like a swimmer struggling for air but like an ordinary person, asserting his right to oxygen and a clear mind.

She gets up and leaves the porch with him. It always ends the same way between her and the voice in her head. He couldn't have been more true.

A prelude to the upcoming post

Schadenfreude

You know the feeling that settles on the leaves
soon after, the rain has washed it clean.
reeking of loss, that is yet to be seen.
Glazed by purple, music and mortification.

Get out,
Turn off the T.V
Listen closely

Embrace the feeling, that comes with a purpose
and sometimes with the force of calamity.
Run or surrender, run of surrender?
The mind has married a new worry.
Drown in it, swallow it. Bathe in that feeling
Like tongue soaked in a stiff gulp of sour whiskey.
Allow it the frisky ride it has been yearning for eternity
It's killing you forever to ignore the
sordidness of the daily.
That which surges like a wave- high and low.
bellowing the rocks to crush into pieces.
and the pieces into froth.

That which cries you to sleep every night
and wakes you up with a jolt,
only to welcome fecundity.

Gather yourself, the morning bells don't ring twice
for the deaf.
Look beneath the bruised-
there is only redemption to seek in acceptance
of the gone.

Thoughts after finishing The Fault in our stars

• Dear Mr. green                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         It’s been three minutes since I put down ‘The fault in our stars’ and I am I’m filled with an urgent need to weep.
  Don’t get me wrong. I am not a crier, so its all very new to me. I don’t cry at the movies. I don’t cry over boys who I break up with menacingly.
  
  
  The last time I wept was when I was in the hospital abound by pain from the syringes darted into my veins. But it was mostly because of the physical hurt and therefore a legitimate occasion to cry.
  
  
  But right now, I find it hard to describe my indisposition to anyone, heck even me.
  I want to weep not because Gus fades into a star. Sure, the gravity of his eulogy for Hazel has the power to lacerate a piranha.
  
  
  My affliction, as it appears has little to with the way, the book ends. It is the gross realization of the fact that it has ENDED. And it will take me a long while to find anything as engaging as this.
  
  
  TFIOS has transported me to the third space, your characters experience over the phone. Except, I’m a real person and I don’t know exactly how to end this paragraph with a punchy, Hazel one-liner.
  
  
  Writing superlatives about this book and would be extremely superficial. So let me just sum it up in two words.
  
  
  Thank you.
  For this insightful journey into the damaged which reads brilliantly.
  
  Thank you for allowing me to spend the last 90 hours in the most meaningful way I could have.
  
  
  Thank you, for reminding me that I am more blessed than I know for a healthy body and a working mind. Although at this point, I must be sounding crazy to you. Don’t I?
  
  
  But more importantly, thank you for immortalizing death through words. And rendering words immortal. It is rare to come across an author who quotes Shakespeare, Parminedes and facebook posts elegantly in one book
  
  
  Okay,
  A