“things left unsaid...”

you saw the explosion.
you missed the slow leak.
you saw the wave.
you missed the storm
that was building
for months inside my chest.

(read the full poem in caption.)

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but morning comes,
and the silence between breaths
becomes too loud,
so he lights up another cigarette.

(read the full poem in caption.)

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लप्रेक भाग ३ (समापन)

पर प्रेम की भाषा में कोई पन्ना आख़िरी नहीं होता —
वो बस थोड़ी देर के लिए चुप हो जाता है।

कभी तुम्हारा-मेरा लौटना हुआ तो वहीं से फिर शुरू करूंगा —
या शायद... फिर कभी नहीं।

(an excerpt. read full story in caption!)

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there will also come a time
when enthusiasts will come searching
for meaning—
digging up files,
read the fragments,
poke around my ruins
like vultures
looking for poetry in the carcass.

but i am almost sure
all they'll find is sorrow,
half-boiled dreams
rotting in the dark,
the stench of what could have been
still clinging
to the ghost of my name.

(Read the full poem in caption!)

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one day
when i will be long gone
they're gonna dig up
my computer, laptop and hard drives
my phone, journals, diaries
my insta, facebook and whatsapp messages: to self
and then it's gonna end up
being published
and i will probably end up like
one of those authors or poets
who didn't get the recognition
they deserved
when they were sound and alive.

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“This war within: my life with OCD and Schizophrenia"

(read the full poem in caption!)

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लप्रेक भाग २

हमारी किताब अब भी वही खुली पड़ी है,
पन्ने हवा में उलटते रहते है,
और मैं हमेशा ही इस सोच में डूबा रहता हूँ—
क्या कोई अंत सच में लिखा जा सकता है जब मन में प्रेम अब भी शेष हो?

(an excerpt. full story in caption.)

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“suppressing every scream"

(read the full poem in caption!)

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“ten minutes worth of soothing silence"

(read the full poem in caption!)

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the throbbing i feel in my head
it isn't just pain—
it's a presence.
it resides behind my eyes,
pressing, pulsing,
as if it knows me all too well
almost worse than any scar i ever gave myself.
it's worse than the blood,
the sting,
the brief relief.
this pain i have been hosting for what seems like a millennia doesn't die.
it doesn't let go.
it just stays,
as if my mind is its comfort place.
it's louder than the thoughts,
louder than the quiet that follows,
louder than anything i have ever done to have a sense of control over my mind.
and no one sees it.
no one hears it.
not a single soul.
but it's always there. always.

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