سجدہ تجھے نہیں
تیری روح کی طمانیت کو کرتی ہوں
اس قدر قائل ہوں تیری خاموشیوں کی
کی تیرے جسم پر لپٹے کفن سے بھی
درگاہ کی چادر سا عشق کرتی ہوں

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"It's all in your head"

A LETTER TO DEPRESSION
•Caption•

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Dear Grandma,

Four years ago when I first saw Thestrals,
I know they came in an exchange for your life.

//Letter in Caption

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On most nights
I wonder
How it feels
To sleep euphorically,
Sharing moments
With the ageing life
In a shiny casket
Snuggled in the layers
Of earth.
And watch your soul
Betray your shadow
To escape into the
Infinities of Afterlife.

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I ponder what they'll do to me
I ponder if I'd be pardoned

When I'll drop my phlegmatic act
And unveil the idol I've been worshipping for years
My muse. My love
The face that has given me butterflies
Whilst fanning the flame of my creativity.

//CAPTION

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I tell them that writing for me, is a battle
and I can't write
Until my weapons want a war.

// CAPTION

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They'd often call me a writer 
Slamming the miniature window of my emotions, shut
Mistaking my hurt fingers for skin-clad typewriter keys 
Which only knew to portray misery
and turn symphonic cries into ink blots,

//CAPTION

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It all started off
With a gush of irony
When good riddance was weaved
Into the intricacies of partus,
When one vagina expelled
A star-crossed another

//CAPTION

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//DEPRESSION

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I always hated cradling quills
And the ink soaked parchments
That evoked a stench of words;
Pungent, yet rawer than uncooked flesh

//CAPTION

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