the vessel is full

the vessel is full,
but feels empty
from within,
it almost feels
like words are screeching,
from the boiling kettle pot,
trying to
tell me, something,
but words don’t
show up, words
are ditching me,
love has lost
its way and hope
is still stuck
in traffic,
the vessel is full,
but feels empty
from within,
and my
heart has crumpled up,
with ramblings,
which are not to be heard and,
tears,
which are not be seen,

the vessel is full.

if the ceiling of my room was outter space

if the ceiling of my room was outter space

if the ceiling of my room was outter space,
i’d have stopped them, the gravity under my
bed, from pulling me,
down, again and
again,
if the ceiling of my room was outter space,
a door, a pathway to other galaxies,
i’d then take my plant
along with me, my new fried,
who sits by the balcony, quietly,
everyday,
it gives me joy, to see him grow.

if the ceiling of my room was outter space,
i’d have stopped bottling up storms of
emotions within.

if the ceiling of my room..

who am i

who am i?
i see that the
hands of the clocks,
have now,
started spinning
leftwards, and we,
you and me, tanzim,
are going back to
where we started.

from those vast empty
gardens, where you’ll
sit, with our mother
and father, around,
and look at the world,
in awe, look
at the baloonwallah’s
and the icecreamwallah’s,
and gleam in amazement
of everything, that
is around.

and, now
tanzim, we are
spinning behind
going back in
time, on a reverse
rollercoaster.

imagine, if
everything that has
happened to
you, and to me,
imagine it- only
being our imagination.

i know your chest feels
heavy now, heavy now-
mine does too,
it must be the pills.

the dogs are barking
in the gully, why do
they bark.

i am trying to forget you, tanzim
but i am forgetting myself too.

trying to forget you

do you like it now, tanzim?
now,
i wear my vulnerabilties
as my
yellow summer shirt,
with each blow of
summer wind, i
bleed, my skin
cuts and
the dried leaves
touch through
this deep empty pit
i-you have been
feeling since
the beginning of time,
flowers have become blades and
loneliness, the only meaning of time,
you-i have ever known,
i look at him, jungli,
our landlord’s dog,
lying on the floor, tired
with the summer heat,
i try to forget it all, tanzim,
i am trying to forget you,
tanzim.

my devil companion

Illustration by Sarah Mazzetti

its has been long that i have written anything here. i know on most of the days i have started writing by saying that it has been long. it has been. it is always long enough. with the number of days, that i don’t write- there are parts within which dry away like autumn leaves and die, get crushed underneath shoes of men and women who fail to notice my withering heart.

oh, tanzim, isn’t it overwhelming? Read More

How to save yourself from heartbreaks?

I am twenty-two year old male, who has recently moved into a new city in the hope of being able to learn to be independent again, to lose the fears which have crawled up on my skin from living on one bed for almost a year and now have become tattoos which are difficult to erase.

And, today, this sunday morning, I am trying to contemplate about heartbreaks and how I can avoid them?

Read More

day 7 [10:52 am | 13th February 2018] mother the self

i don’t have a beginning or an end where i can begin this and i am repeating myself in my head, telling myself i don’t know where to start this.

i am very afraid to write, afraid to be vulnerable. i have always, mostly written to someone, written for someone and never for the self.

i’ve been afraid really, most of life.

Read More