Echoes

Echoes Do these still standing pillars still listen for the war cries that haunted it’s inhabitants?Do they still await the return of the unnamed heroes whose blood colours the bricks ?Are there still cracks in the foundation that somone actively fills in fear of everything collapsing,Do you still stand there calling out my name as…

An Almost Death

The night was so dark you could see the abyss stare back into you like Nietzsche used to say,the screams were so loud you could hear silence go silent for a second,the letter that I wrote did not exist on the sheet of paper in front of me,the warm life that people talked about had…

Mulberry Driftwood

This is to all the people that have been a part of my life.Maybe we don’t talk today and maybe we no longer know everything about each other but I still love you and I would still run to you when you need me. I am not good at approaching people, so the only way…

A Funeral Of My Dreams

Disapproval dripped from father’s fingers, spilling unto the beautiful tiles, as mother mopped it up into a bucket, with the drapes of her disappointments. The house was steady silent, only the dreadful acid hissing with spite, drops of which still lay on the floor, eating away the ground under my feet. They pulled you out…

Graveyard Of Time

Everything beautiful comes to it’s end, on the dark, rusted gates of time, where cuckoos sing amidst silent echoes, spirits dance in the invisible light. The lavenders grow between broken tiles, the yellow autumn leaves rustle, right before the Winter’s dawn arrives, their beauty gets it’s own marble stone. The dark clouds come in robes…

The Fossils Of My Home

I walk on the fragmented remains of Earth, of the porch ground touching the soles of my feet, tiny lavender sighs are crunching underneath me, breaking and forming the soil below. The crusty pieces of the doorknob, cut my fingers curled around them, like a flailing phantom fighting off, hands about to cut off it’s…

Love

To the man that taught me the meaning of love again, When books are loved, there pages folded and their spine creased with the memories of the words and their covers worn out by the hands that love them and care for them, they become something a little more than the paper that they are…

My Obituary

When I was 13, during a game of truth and dare my friend had asked me what my obituary would say. Back then I didn’t really have any answer to that because till then I hadn’t really experienced the mortality of life itself. My mind hadn’t wandered to the fact that maybe one day the…

Fate

The seers once told me I was born with fate forged , in the fault lines of my palms, by the sharp wires of destiny. But the wise never told me, the web of my blessings would, tangle me into death ropes, I would bleed on the altar of sins. When the embers in your…

Days

The concept of days is mesmerizing; each has 24 hours, each has a sunrise and a sunset and even then each is different for every different person. For some the day is like the poppy flowers swaying gently to the winds of laughter in Elysium, for others the day is drab, dirty hay rolling in…