Vignesh Desale   (V)
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Awake in a dream
Joined 7 November 2016


Awake in a dream
Joined 7 November 2016
11 AUG 2022 AT 15:36

I am a self detonating explosive
Yet I still race against time.
Self-loathing for a dash of sanity,
The joyride to my own void.
I dive a little deeper in my dark
Light a cigarette, keep seeking the sunlight.
What would I have to offer?
When I'll find myself on this journey.
All that is left in me or
A handful of nothingness?

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3 APR 2022 AT 0:09

When the winters visit,
And the city is covered with dews of serenity,
But our windowpane is smudged with melancholy,
Bring me the warmth to melt my cold heart.
So when the first rain arrives at my door
I walk out free without an umbrella
And let it drench my soul.
Sedate my love with your voice so
I don't fear the uninvited thunders.
And when it's finally summers,
Touch me like the Sunflower,
So that I can finally look at the sun and still feel soft.
When it's finally Autumn, and my fall is inevitable
I desire to be be the fallen daisies that cover the pavements of Gulmarg in Kashmir and
I hope they all lead me to you.

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18 FEB 2022 AT 3:03

If this heart is stoic, you surround me like a poem.
The walls collapse brick by brick , and I see home.

Awake in a dream,
I wonder if this is the judgement day.
And to be loved, is to knock on the heaven's door
and return with a smile.

I dream of blooming roses with a touch of dew in Kashmir.
I wake up and I breathe this life within like the lavender fields.

The child in me who was robbed of emotions, returns to the man I am with a sky full of it.
I wonder if you are the lullaby he always dreamt of.

This poetry is about the spark inside, to the long awaited morning. The quest of the lost soul that has finally come to an end.
— % &

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2 FEB 2022 AT 2:23

Another night, when the temple collapse.
My mind scribbles and I speak silence.
I wonder how would an artist justify a bruised canvas?
When in the end, it's all just an aftermath of love.
This is a conquest of my own soul.
A wanderer with a fading memory.
Poetry is the wound that I cannot stop touching.
And I know this pain. I knew it all along. — % &

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4 MAY 2021 AT 19:44

To be living as a poet,
There are days when
I find myself locked up in a house
Burning to the ground, trying to gasp air,
Clear the melancholic clouds in my head
On the other days, I find myself jumping
Out of the window, Into the fresh waters of solitude.
Finally escaping all the voices inside my head.
And I wonder, who is, after all a poet?
The one who loses his heart or
The one who realises he has one?

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25 APR 2021 AT 1:20

It's a cold Friday night,
The whiskey tastes more bitter after
Each time I trip down the memory lane.
I understand why Kafka believes,
"A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity."
The thunderstorm outside the window
Feels intimate to me for reasons unknown.
I must've been a gambler in a past life
To keep winning all my bets on destiny.
If I were a place, I must be Kashmir.
To hope for the flower to bloom in the void.
This life feels like a swing some times,
And I keep wondering if
I should enjoy the play or worry the fall?

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15 JAN 2021 AT 23:59

Each night,
As the light leaves the ground,
To explode in the sky into infinite stars,
Here I am, somewhere; leaving this body, leaving the world
To go back to the beautiful corners in my head
Where I have carefully crafted our memories, like an artisan
I paint the story in all the colors,
then throw a bucket of black.
The whiskey gushes down my throat,
and I press the cigarette against my lips.
Like a cold breeze at 3:00 am on the streets of Bombay,
This is to the warm feeling, I'd never let go of.

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8 JAN 2021 AT 19:57

What is this feeling within me?

A flame hundred winters cold still burning.
Melancholy on repeat like my favourite music.
My body feels like a battleground as I write this poetry.

There's blood and whiskey spilled over the pages.
The ashes fall, the smoke disappears,
It reminds of your memory back from the ages.

I mustn't return, I have become the dark.
This is a quest of the love, long lost.
Worlds apart, with a home next to our hearts.

The night is here, should we put this to bed?
Or fight another day, to seek the ultimate end.

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16 NOV 2020 AT 2:55

You touch my soul like
A rhythmic piece of poetry
And I walk the quest within each night.
I wish I'd captured us in the moment
If at all, there was something as forever.
Your scent leads me home,
The only sacred place in this
Lonely man's cold town.
I hope, I wake up to remember,
The lost and forgotten piece of poetry within
Maybe then, we could be complete.

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9 OCT 2020 AT 1:42

When the eyes start to perceive than just see
The mere image of distortion and illusion diagramed
By the society as a reflection of the dark,
It is when you meet the light within you.

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