your head’s tilted
to one side; you tired,
look up
let your
moonlit eyes coincide with
its reflection
in the sky; and in a bizarre
watch the rain, as it
wafts and soothes and drains
pours; let one tiny droplet
reach your skin
for every million
that fall
and let it learn of
your wonder; and then
let it find itself
with an eternity
of more
in a torrential halo, drifting and
floating; dancing in the disbelief
of having laid touch
on a being
they initially deemed



half love

half prayer

throbbing incantations

for the ritual

of severing

and freeing

from all

from one

from none

half curse

that too

for a little bit of darkness

would do no harm

for a dash of the devil

would add a little charm

for eternity’s grasp

with a lie smouldering the sun

would devour the deafening dusk

as my threads come undone


seminal intentions; precariously perched

at the dawn of surrender,

filling indentations with

numbers and streaks

that tell of a tale; maybe

of a vagabond vessel

somewhat accidentally(?) meandering

against the currents of

the universe,

not necessarily with much

preceding context;

but ah, what the hell

who needs context anyway?


tables lit blue

mercy’s not my friend

I’m lying to myself

I’m living

I’m lying

glass in hand

I try

blue collar life put behind

I break away

I want to feel alive

crashing and burning isn’t a bad option

all I’ve wanted is red



traffic light

warning sign

you see it

it’s you

it’s you?

it’s you

it’s me

boxed circles

checkered pleads

let me


and maybe one more

and I’ll be your air

your gravity


fuck love

who needs love

you’re still lying


can’t I lie for once?

let me

go away

don’t seep in

don’t crave

don’t take it away from me

all I’ve wanted is red

but all I see is blue


let the water

be our song


and only tonight

and we’ll break

all the hands

on all the clocks

we find

and we’ll wander

and we’ll be

and we’ll sail

and we’ll lust

with anxious eyes

for the brazen crimson

and the rapid white speck

and the warm sandy ripple

only for

our eyes

to find

and burn

and swim

and drown

in each others’

I’m Still Dreaming

It’s the turn of the dusk
The light’s washed over once more
Of course, dark will eventually blanket the sky all over

But for now
I have a confession
Hear me out on this one

I have dreams
I really do have dreams
Dreams to remember
Dreams I don’t want to forget

I still believe in them
And I don’t want them to stop flying
I don’t want gravity to bring them down
Because I’ll never know
What makes this man
If they lose heart
If I lose heart

I know that familiarity is nothing more, than temporary comfort
Like a maroon quilt that will eventually lose its charm and color
And changes like these are the only occurrences that keep us alive
But god I hope
I hope so bad
My dreams
The ones that make hell worth taking on
Are here to stay

I need them more than I’ll ever know
Don’t take them away from me
Let me keep them
And nurture them
And hate them a little too, for always being a little crazier than they need to be
I promise I won’t let go
I just hope I’m strong enough to hold on to them

In Stability

I don’t know
what being stable
feels like anymore

I only know its enemy
The one that suddenly threw this poem off its triplets
The one whose currents don’t ripple
but instead sends you swirling

But wait
Currents moved in one direction,
didn’t they?
To shore
or sure death
and there was never a middle ground
or a void

A void
There is a void
That’s the middle ground
that has a fault line darting through
that changes crescendo in tandem
with the vivid raptures of petals gently losing their color when they feel like they’ve seen it all
From a simile of tears
to a metaphor of a desert

Maybe this is what they call change
this constant flux of all things madness
that only settles into an ebb of organised chaos
that beats and beats and beats
through random streams and perturbed rockfalls
sending vibrations
through this intricate web
that has such a mess of wires
and hearts
and warped continuums
which can only breed in mayhem
never in control

thrive in frenzy
never in peace
survive in clouded futures
never in surety
breathe in fluidity
and never,
in stability


The morning

After the schizophrenia,

born and raised;

whiskey whiskey

feather by feather

on floral range,

with soapy water

trying to contrast; somehow,

with the troubled bridge

above which your tied hair

sways; have I ever told you

they match; with your

refusing eyes? that it reflects

the tranquil

of what runs underneath; that

your true palette; the one

you never want

to show, paints the sky

a hue that

starts with the letter