flux

i don't want to get inside your mind.

i want to get out of mine.

a thoughtless thought.

the suspension of disbelief.

be(com)ing

we had always known
this day would come.
our copious silences 
had talked of this.
our closed eyes
had seen this coming.
it is time, my dear.
hold my hand
and let us empty our hearts
out into the universe
and 
in the vast space of nothing
find everything.

circularity

in a moment of epiphany
the wound decided
to unheal itself.
looking contemptuously
at the scar, it said -
"a faded, jaded afterthought
my life shall not be.
out with you lousy pretender!"
and with an unabashed gash
time's intricate accomplishment
was savagely undone.

pain unleashed itself
in a fit of helpless rage,
and blood oozed
in a frenzy, misdirected.

"bleed. hurt.
afresh. anew."
ranted the old knave,
laughing in gushing knots.

in a corner
a determined tick
said to a dejected tock
"wait and watch
my friend,
just wait and watch."

mix and match - a justification

a background that refuses

to back down.

loud, if only, 

to protect

the subtle.

light - to see 

as much as to blind.

looking for meanings

in the holes

through which

the words peep out,

or sometimes

into which they hide.

strain your eyes.

work your hands.

leave resignedly.

stay on

determinedly.

do something.

anything.

just leave the laziness to me.

codes of silence

words spill out

from the corners

of the evening,

walk into the night

curfewed into silence,

unsure but proud...

“is it worth it?”

reticent night

chooses not to answer.

and so,

the spillover continues

unabashed

uncaring

of dawn’s revelation.

penalty

in a quiet corner

fire emblazoned

lies a bundled holdall -

fragmented lines,

uneven wrinkles,

blotched ink scrolls,

and 
blotted thumb prints -

who dare give fate

a red card?

of spatiotemporal shades

a flash of darkness

a blot of light

the faltering reels

of a monochromatic life…

tainted tints

blushing palettes

the treasured horizons

of rainbowy deaths…

infernal contempt

in hues of bland

the uneven tones

of no man’s land…

it pours

it pours.
a trembling steadiness
a fixed shudder - 
a torrent of questions
a wasteland of answers -
it pours.

spaces of silence

spaces of silence
never were
silent spaces.
charged blurs
in smoldering crevices.
supernovas
then, black holes.

tick tock

the clock's still ticking.
clearly then -
its far from done.
what am i missing?

missed appointment

the appointed hour 

was always tomorrow,
but it went by 
in countless yesterdays,
without ever coming.
the burden of hope
must shift now.
next week it is.

diary entry

dear someday -
there are way too many
coffees lunches
books places
people conversations
packed into you.
i hope you make it.

letter

my old friend, word -
vanity makes you foolishly determined
(rather, determinedly foolish)
time and time again
you refuse to read the signs
as if you didn't know
signified to signifier
is always, but always
(always already?)
lost in translation. 

wanderings

going away. coming back.
until there is no going away.
going away. coming back.
until there is no coming back.

the head spins in its own contradictions.
a ceaseless, indifferent
spiralling.
the sickening nausea of existence.
p.s. - fainting not allowed. 

harmony

on a sun drenched january afternoon
my toes twiddled on the balcony railing 
relishing freedom 
from a perpetual wintry encampment.
a white spotted pigeon on the window sill, 
a grey one on the unused cooler stand
formed my audience 
as i hummed known and newly discovered tunes 
- for them, as much as for me.
they looked in my direction, 
i smiled,
they flew away.
i turned my tuneful attention
toward the fluttering peepal leaves
leaning out from the terrace
and sang to them.
they danced,
i smiled,
and walked away.