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Like Mountains

Like Mountains

I look with that deadly look,
Searching for you in every corner; every nook.
All I remember is the chills and the mist,
I wish I could explain all this in a gist.
I don’t know what they feel when they say of love,
Do they feel the same I feel right now?
I feel like I am on the top of the peak.
I feel like the mountains and the valleys deep.
Yes I know I am being a little too romantic,
But love does it to you or so to speak.
I don’t get the idea of love, though,
How can it hurt so much and kill you this slow?
Isn’t it supposed to be an escape?
Escape to the illusion we call reality.
Escape from the pain and the destiny.
But look how shady love is.
Like the mountains themselves.
Yearning to be your way out,
But impossible to get your voice through;
However loud you shout.
But I guess I had to make my way up and see it for myself,
Was the pain worth all the effort;
Does the pain outweigh love itself?

Untitled – II

I have often heard of how hope is a good thing.
And how good things never die.
Probably true in movies.
And fairy tales.
or nightmares.
The idea of how everything would be all right in the end sounds like an artificial idea.
Like a fabric stitched around all that mess to somehow cover it all and make it all nice and tidy.
The very idea of how everything would be good eludes me.
It shouldn’t be.
How else would you savour those gaps of numbness between the terror of spices?
The very idea of happiness is to understand that you cannot be always happy.
And here we are,
Seeking happiness all our life.
It is indeed ironical though.
We say “we just get one life”
And then we say “Till death do us apart”
We give so much value to the end that we forget the journey.
See how imperfect we are?
What started as a discussion of hope ended up being a discussion of life and happiness.
God no.
Of course they aren’t connected.
We just think they are.
Life is just there.
We just let it mean so much to us.

Untitled – I

I swear I was holding my breath as long as I could,
I feared I would mess it all up.
The moment.
This moment which has been described in so many books and songs and yet I could not see it coming.
This moment which lasted longer than the end of the horizon.
This moment which shone brighter than a thousand suns.
I dare not give out a gasp as it would wither that fragile skin of yours.
I dare not breathe.
I knew it would be the end of me.
And yet I wanted to stay as close to you as I could,
And as I turned red and tears rolled from my eyes,
I finally figured why lovers died over love.
Indeed, they weren’t so naive.
They were just drunk.
Drunk on the idea that love could heal.
Even death.



Every touch of yours unsettles every move of mine.
Moves to undo what you did to me.
Undo the introduction to the myriad of possibilities.
Possibilities of versions in which we could’ve been.
Been together and there and difficult, unstable but still exist.
Exist in this cruel, gruesome world where no good thing lives.
Lives to prove just one point.
Point being that it need not be simple and need be anything but chaotic.
Chaotic at its roots,
The same roots that hold everything together and proves how paradoxical it can be,
Paradoxical the same way like the air,
Air which nurtures and can also suffocate,
Suffocate every little strand of hope,
Hope, that is good and yet cruel,
Cruel and yet necessary,
Necessary to make you understand,
Understand that pain and love are together; forever,
Forever like the affair of zeros and infinite,
Infinite; the way you make me feel everytime,
Every time you touch me.

Scratched Souls

How does it feel?
Holding all that power within.
Containing so much for so long,
To feel as weak and yet as strong.
How does it feel?
To take deep dives into the sea,
Hoping that it would take you back;
Back to what you used to be.
How does it feel?
To scratch till there’s just bones and blood,
To feel like a stranded tree in the flood.
Yes I feel that too,
Feeling like falling from a cliff,
Fearing the darkness within when you sleep.
Don’t worry you’re not alone,
There has been many like us,
With hearts of blood and stone.
We’re the flood, the fire, the rain,
We’re the feeling that they get when they fail.
We’re the zero and the infinity both at once,
Negating itself creating a myriad of paradox.
We’re not wrong nor we’re right,
We’re like nature; caring like day and ruthless like nights.
Our destiny is to just be.
Looking for the other half,
Only to fail for eternity.
We’ll always be what life is to death,
What light is to dark.
But beyond that,
We’re something more.
We’re far more than
Damaged goods,
Broken hearts,
Pieces of shards.
We’re the song of life,
We’re the dark of night.
Let them call us what they feel,
We’re not meant to heal.
We’re the fire that burns itself,
We’re the scars,
The screams,
We’re trapped,
We’re as impossible as the 8th fold,
But all in all,
We’re Scratched Souls.

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