I wake up and find the ruffled-up me,
untidy hair, swollen eyes, chapped lips, perfectly unmatched clothes,
well a totally shabby lad.
I stare at my reflection with the utmost contempt, and there you are;smiling, glaring and appreciating me.
I'm starting to lose myself into that train of thoughts that include you, that include us and I start smiling as well.

Oh no time, I have to retreat  back to practicality.
Putting on the old-fashioned adornments and adorning the odd-fashioned manner, I step out of my sparsely populated and overtly protected sphere to struggle through yet another challenge, to 'live' through the day.
Yeah I'm asked to fit in, as much as I loathe it I'm bound to do that. That has become the way of the world, you like or not, you can or cannot, you have to "fit in".

Stop smiling, it does something wonderful to me and right now I cannot afford  anything happening wonderful to me, as I said, I have to fit into the way of the world.
I'm stuck, I'm hate-loving the fact of my simultaneous destruction and creation; where I'm the silent spectator and I'm the happily willful victim. And there you are distracting me. Let me do what I'm expected to; everyone's not like you to not judge me and make me feel safe home.
Stop flashing that magical smile, stop striking that merciless glare; why do you find such happiness in creating a all different me?

You smile and I swoon away, you create a funny me.
You speak and I repeat your words like an enchantment, you create an insane me.
You walk past and I'm left following the trails of your essence, you create a hysteric me.
Just the thought of your one touch and I'm already heaving breathless,to be lost and found in you, you create a pathetic me.

It's you who create this fantastic blankness in me when I'm expected to strive through the suffocating crowd; it's you who create this catastrophe in and around, making me well attuned to it, when I'm expected to live through this dead commotion.
How atrocious you are? I dislike this weakness that has allowed you to invade through my soul, seep into my blood, make my heartbeat skip and then all courageous, claim the whole of my being.
I'm becoming what you are making of me, as much as I dislike that I'm being subject to such control, I'm loving it's you who is controlling me.

And yes, I love and hate the way you create me.
The creator of my stark abyss and the destroyer of my tranquility,
You, what do I call You.....  

 GUARDIAN ANGEL OR DEVIL INCARNATE

 THEME DIVIDER-2/

 

I like the disarrangement around me.
The half-read books, the rattling pages of which roar out stories good and no-so-good;
the half-finished coffee, the aroma of which fills the room with a familiar sense of relief;
the flowers in the vase that have dried out miserably;
the plethora of unfinished letters stacked in between the old magazines, that were addressed to a destination now lost;
the wax which has melted out of the blown-out candle,weary of being the sole witness to those words cried out but left unheard.
All of this,each of these misfits comfort me. They console me that yes I can ,as well, be a part of this chaotic world.
But do I really need to?

It is messed up, isn't it? Don't you agree?
The definitions seem changing, ain't they?
Who has the time to love, they all just need backups.Every being there is scared of loneliness and too contrite to accept it. Building up a virtual world of chaos, dwelling in it, they keep themselves entertained with the feeling of belongingness yet  won't bear any threats to their protected solipsism,absurd!

Love demands the purest of you,the honest of you, the strongest of you and the whole of you.
But they can't afford that, that would be a lost deal. Demanding total consumption of your being, well risky and overtly painstaking, isn't it? Centered around "self", they can't afford to be consumed, just want to strive through the chaos of sounds, too much of just sounds.

I am a different kind of a mess. I'm scared to be heard, but ready to be consumed. A soul with a void, an amazing void which can only be filled with this vacuum of love. Yes,love is a vacuum. The establishment of  this being recognized by a stark blank space of wantingness. This is a wantingness of your being to be consumed, with a passion that's unbridled; this passion that ignites a thirst which desires no fulfillment. This is vacuum which sets you free of the desire to posses, to own. This vacuum provides you with the freedom.

I want my "self" to be centered around that dark entity who would dare to love this kind of Love, this vacuum that I inhabit. Both of us, our scars that would cry out the stories of our devatation would become a cure to each other, without asking for the cause of them. And together we would be lost to that chaos recognized and cherished by our vacuums.

So which chaos is more desirable?
Truth does not need to rant about it's existence, it creates it's dignified space in a silent tone; it does not let itself  be lost among the hollow clankings.
You love the chaos around you? What is it...........

TOO LOUD  OR  BARELY AUDIBLE

THEME DIVIDER- 1/

                           EASY CHOICE 

I don't find myself confused standing at the crossroad 

For it has become easy to choose the path which is dark, 

It does hide what I keep harbouring 

My trepidations so stark.

Is not this pebbled road tired of my usual story 

Vulnerability, confusions and unhappy confessions!
Isn't it weary of listening to the same libretto of regressions?

In love with the dark, I have fallen for this darkness,
For the fear of light, feels heavy on heart,does not wish for loving caress.
For the light would expose the fears hidden,
Hidden in the darkest moats of my soul
I am tired of this game of expectations, on the whole.

But what exactly do I fear,
Pain, suffering or love
The love that calls for unmatched pain
Or the suffering that leads to Love.

Is everyone as fearful as me,or not
If so,are they strong enough to accept it,or not.

Isn't everyone, everyday, every moment
Fighting battles of rendered defiance
Then it's just a matter of ignorance or acceptance.
Lost to the battles, there is acquisence
to the 'force' they quite don't even understand.

There is this narrow cut, leading to the 'lighthouse', I ignore it
What purpose may it serve,for maybe I have the light within me,
Just not decided whether I should let it glare.

I do not choose,choosing is a difficult choice,
I have left it all to the destiny, to be chosen.
For now at this moment, I love the silence this road speaks, the time seems just frozen.

Acceptance of normalcy, not acceptable
This desire to desire, still so much desirable
But this hoping against hopes,
Is just the game so miserable.

What kind of journey is it,
In search of identity or disposition
Is it a quest to live or mere sustenance.

Today also I return,without any answer to my confusions
But it's okay, I don't have to pretend
I'm fine with my kind of convulsions.

So  I will leave,
This road to rest
Let it find it's peace.
For tomorrow I may come back
To continue my journey of silent scream.

Unrequited Desire

                                        Unrequited Desire

I envy the moon,that knows it all,

every secret of that wounded heart,has it cajoled,

Let me break-through the boundaries of that tethered soul.

Those flashing eyes beholding fables of affronted pains,

I see through them a carefree smile,veiled 

have you kept it,make me the palliative rains.

Captive held I am of that riveting smile underneath that heart-so-ached

Can't  you let me find my solace,

Can't you let me enter that forbidden place?

Have not all the endeavours that I contrue,

Apprise how much I pine to be a piece of you?!

Oh I am tired,

Can the consequences be more dire?!

Against me this moon has conspire,

Look,how it mocks its victory of my 

Unrequited Desire!!!

 

                                       I, Me and Myself

Reflecting upon the strokes of my own reflection ,

I dwell hard enough to find the answer,

answer to my question of being I, Me and Myself.

Who should be answering my query, these lifeless beings?

this sun ,the moon, the stars,

oh these ones with mere handful of light,

and this one with a scar??!!

What do they got to their credentials,

so they could solve my query of purposeless existence,

Well that makes me ponder upon as to

 what they have got to their pronounced persistence.

Oh, this boastful ball of fire,

Regarded as the reverend sire,

The least it could do is 

Diminish the darkness through its 

soothing shine.

Atleast, "I" burning with the fire of revenge

have the power to sway away light from an 

innocent's life.

Oh, that muse of every poet,

scintillating bright, calm and quiet.

the least it could do is 

fill a remorseful heart with peaceful delight.

Atleast, 'I" devoid of any mercy and absorbed in hatred

have the power to overshadow lives with terror and fear,

can cause austere havoc and plight.

Oh,that cotton-bed full of tiny droplets ,

beholding close the message of joy and prosperity,

The least it could do is 

Drench us with abundant showers of palliative rains.

Atleast, "I" beholding cruelty at heart and a fragile mind 

can send tears rolling down innocent cheek,

can cause unmatched pain.

Sprinting tress,singing birds,

boundless ocean........

Powerless Creations!!!

Atleast  "I" can

take away the beauty of blossoming flower,

turn the demure creatures into menial vagabond 

And at last,

ask the ocean to absolve me of my "powerful acts".

Maybe now, I am realizing the power of

"me",

Maybe now, I am answered the question of 

"myself".

And now i wish i could be  a part of every of that 

"powerless being so "selfless".....

Anything except of being just......

"I,Me And Myself".