The perfected dance floor,
The rivulting lights,
The jazz music,
Its illusion and the fun.
I see the young girls,
Invited by the fun,
Captivated by the ambience.
They tap their legs,
On the rhythm,
Giving into their hunger,
They forget their loneliness.
Is this the hell? I ask myself.

(Read the caption)

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Fragmeted,
My existence.

(Read the caption)

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The city fidgets with a simple sleeping pill,
bringing a dilemma to break the myths,
Putting the people to the spell of their sleep,
Isn't what we warned to each other --
We are the people who would never be asleep,
Eyes unclosed, we though never are awake,
Then the sleep comes almost becoming
Our savior,
It's where we would re-watch our little dreams,
Like a tiny version of netflix series.

This catastrophe will teach us to tame our aversions,
Or awaken the part that has become cold yet dead,
We left our inner temples for too long,
Empty rocks that we carved for ourselves,
Smirk now at our own impotence,
The sleep is all we require,
Becoming awake and strong,
Reminding us of our scorching soul

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the sleepless nights,
They stay in my world where light would never exist,
Also the perfection is known as breathtakingly incomplete,

I have been staring at these walls for much long enough,
Generations say that they have stood their test of time,
Providing a comfort to all of us,
As if giving us our own strength.

Sometimes they scream at me and shout -
Tell me today, your own story,
Forcing me to brew the sad words of my pains and struggle,
Their evil grin helps me find a comfort
As if giving a beggar a blanket for snuggle.

Sometimes I feel these walls gives me an identity,
A person that I wouldn't dare someone to be,
Like an unexpected journey, they smile and tell me,
Soon you will become the person you never
Thought you would be,
Soon you will walk at night showing your burnt face,
Turning their days into nights,
Soon you will fill your soul with the imbrued anger giving the justice of your fight.

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it would whisper in my ear,
Taking me into their world telling their unkept secrets,
Singing me the stories that only I want to hear
Of how time can be rested,
Of how the world can be content,
Of how could I unite with my destiny,
Of how achieving can be calm,
And how the success can smell like a beautiful scent.
They would laugh at my words as I would tell them my sad shallow stories,
They would then tell their own encounters,
Talking about that sand particles that disrupt their flow,
It's okay to find the sweet tiny obstacles, they would say,
For they are small particles that only help us to grow

Looking at the sunset, we know the talk is almost over,
We prepare for our final conversation to say goodbye to each other,
Unspoken emotions are kept as its time to bid a goodbye,
Making sure I remember their multi syllables, they now sing me a lullaby,
Assuring me that one day I will return to them with the wonderful stories,
Next time would be mine as I will have experienced a wonderful tale,
Not just filled with my cup of happiness
But also with my wisdom and strength


(Cont'd. In caption)

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Silhouettes of pains have fancied her days,
Mermaids of love never entangled her ways,
Yet emerged a survivor incited from that
Very void space...

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Dear February,
You came not like every other year,
Cajoled with the essence of love,
Following an earthquake
that shook our nation's core,
Making everyone of us swearing for vengeance,
Preceding an event of revenge.
Reminding of karma which can be blissful voilence...

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The impression we create




The choices we make
(Please read caption)

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The path is not always long and clear,
The darkness is somewhat comforting and near,
I walk along the parched hallways,
Deciphering the lost roads.
There are those lines,
Who are best discovered alone.

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Surrounded under the surface,
Of the enclosed wall.
I find myself writing
When the emotions fighting,
The miracles befall.

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