There are parts of you I despise,
then there are those that don't allow me
to so far as think of leaving you.
And there I am, wondering
with every cell of my being,
if I could ever know which one's which.

-

Someone: How difficult is it to not assume a moral high ground while writing?

Me and 253 other writers: Try me!

-

Utopia

As the skeletons in my closet fall
one after the other, the last thing I'd do
is to care for the world and bother.

One pours all of his life
into an endless act of whitewashing it.
Another destroys his canvas
blaming a noticeable blemish.
If only I could scream to myself
or whisper to this poor world,
that we have it all wrong,
that we're all shades of grey,
some deepening their shallows
some shallowing their depths.

-

Sometimes, I could swear
that I've known you forever.
Others, you entice me
like a wrenching stranger.

How much do I know you,
how much do I not,
for it is as tough a knot
that I find myself as due.

-

Would it be notching it up a little too much, if I do things that have nothing but two extremities? One is the exhilarating pleasure of doing it for the first ever time and the other is the disheartening pain of realising I'd never have the former.

-

Write it out raw, they say
I don't remember the last time
I wrote a poem worth their time
I don't remember the last time
I chuckled, cringed at my words.

Writer's block sounds fancy
yet so synonymous to lazy
I detest those that rhyme
yet sound as loud as mime.

I spend all day convincing myself
that I am worthy to be called a poet
and spend all night being guilty of it.

Alot of these lines above may reek
But, I'm glad I got myself to talk.

-

Send her a message and then
delete for everyone.

-

Pack Your Bags!

-

She left, wondering how big
a cage she put me in
while I gawk at the roomy,
suffocating structure I built
around myself, before
I gave her the only key.

-

An incomplete war

What isn't a war?
A cicada's scream
reddening my ear.

Those with hairy ears and
those still wet behind their ears,
we're all out there at it.
vividly coloured battlegrounds
some, a child's sketch
some, a failed aesthetic.

Some fighting, with no desire to end it.
Some else, with no desire but to end it.
What is it that one truly yearns,
to win everything for himself, or
to win himself.

-