The lights go off, neurotransmitters failure. Someone around me shrieks 'Watchout!' Too late. Headfirst I go, diving in, a split second when nothing matters, Gravity defying, until someone gathers, me up. The blackouts, are my fits of euphoria, exhilarating, liberating, the sinking Concordia. Darkness often blinds, fears sublime. I fly and fall, body and all. … Continue reading Blackout


Love lost

Absolutely someone held too close, walked past with no acknowledgement, of ever being known, for when amends were right under the nose, he chose to keep love for another day, she decided to let him have his way, and when they met again today, a cold glance, an infinity of distance, rained down heavily, on … Continue reading Love lost


Dreams, often loud and jittery, of what has been and what is yet to see, of vibrant hues and musical melodies, of places from another world and fantasies, of people, who captured our smiles, who brought despair, who would've gone those extra miles, and who would no longer appear, those dreams, are now parodies.

Our story

An unsigned card beneath a shut window, sprayed with little perfume droplets, still waits and the wait is eternal. For the love way back became just a shadow, of moments basked in moonlit glory. That might as well, be your story. A half burnt letter smelling of rose, written tediously, in verse and prose, still … Continue reading Our story

This poem stays close to my mind, always.

The Mundane

In her eyes, the desire to win hearts
the limitations of being a frail woman.
And as she passes the powder puff over her sunken cheekbones,
a rolling diadem sparkles,
outlines the blinking charm beneath her forehead.
Arched brows, defined lips.
So often called seductive, so tenderly kissed.
Bites them and clings to the mirror.
Gives herself a steady gaze.
‘Who’s the fairest of them all?’
Walks through the corridor.
Confidently sinister, roughly appealing.
Climbs down the oak carved staircase.
Staggering steps, a dizzy vision.
Lustrous night black hair falling on ivory shoulders.
Makes herself a vodka shot. Old school.
Gulps it down her burning troat.
Lights the cigarette and watches the smoke rising, in childlike awe.
Shuts tight the angel eyes once again.
Mystery personified.

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Armed with words

You love to play with words, twisting and squeezing connotations, in contexts that play havoc, through my thoughts, amidst subtle distortions. You love it, don't you? To see me, struggle with the difference, between implications of verbal necromancy, and all the while that you left me fuming, over uncomprehensive inadequacy, I played along, and threw … Continue reading Armed with words