its heyday
seeping through seam by seam.

-

Is it out of the spite
or just the same old habit,
I do not wish to be comprehend
myself at this juncture.
Maybe I struggled to embrace
some parts of you,
stayed distant effortlessly
and made myself alive,
soaring, finding exhilaration
with the leftover fragments of me,
the one you couldn't stand and despised.
Fairly locked independently
or at least keeping myself at bay,
I will just let my crying ink carry it aloud.

-

reticently eclectic

and abberant.

-

Maybe we despise
each other, because
we yearn after
the same covets
and the covers.
But what if we were bound
to come together
as one someday?

-

Are we sitting, now
on the edge of
a dichotomy of blasphemy,
or are we just the smoke
that whispers through closed spaces
to invite our long-forbidden,
the unimprovised gazes
and the will upon which our affections lie
perfectly beyond the ages
of untarnished emotions,
in smooth turbulence,
lacking dishonesties and injustices.

-

One for one
or eye for an eye
what ever you chose
I am yours spitting mirror image
not just some stimulated mirage.

-

We do not dispel sleep to escape our nightmares;
we chase them, only to offer our lives
and inadvertently surrender the castles
we’ve worked so hard to build.
Instead, this brave act of restlessness
unwittingly contributes to an inevitable
catalyst for everlasting discomfort.

-

the aisles through which I let you slip away instead adjourning of aggregated assemblages.

-

the end of your lucrative courtesies.

-

What is more awe-inspiring,
the skyscrapers
with scintillating lights
or the profoundly
promising emancipation
from inhibitions?

-