waking up, I hope it is not a bad day
gulping down, I hope my body can stomach it
walking across, I hope I don't get run over
laughing aloud, I hope I don't catch the evil eye
laying down, I hope I get to see the sun again

fighting all those that could be,
oblivious to all those that could have been,
staving off an eternity of unhappiness
only to die without a day of happiness.

-

It is what it is

Agony lies
not in what it is
but in the subtlety
of what it could have
been and what
it could have borne
on its skin all along
while the feet danced
and danced and danced
to all the wrong lines;
lived, loved and lost
in the rightful rough ways
for all the wrong reasons.

-

I have lived for too long
in this dark dungeon I dug up myself
under the castle of stone,
a mighty mosaic from a distance
one that I deserved to dwell in all along.

Rotting in my laboured breath,
I lay here, lured in by a monster,
not the one we find under the bed,
but the one I shared my bed with.

That monster, disguised as a diva
lurks in the glass palace above me,
concealing its core from itself.
Knowing all along, that it broke me
into shrapnel of glass, a blue bleeding
Kaliedoscope.

-

Parts of it, or in whole, life
is like that painstaking foreword
of a treasured bestseller.
restlessness to leave it behind
taken with a tinge of triumph.

-

the light at the end of a tunnel,
a tunnel so drenched in darkness that
the very thought of passing through it
and the wait of rays to hit my skin
and dive into my cornea, blinds me.

-

There are parts of you I despise,
then there are those that don't allow me
to so far as think of leaving you.
And there I am, wondering
with every cell of my being,
if I could ever know which one's which.

-

Someone: How difficult is it to not assume a moral high ground while writing?

Me and 253 other writers: Try me!

-

Utopia

As the skeletons in my closet fall
one after the other, the last thing I'd do
is to care for the world and bother.

One pours all of his life
into an endless act of whitewashing it.
Another destroys his canvas
blaming a noticeable blemish.
If only I could scream to myself
or whisper to this poor world,
that we have it all wrong,
that we're all shades of grey,
some deepening their shallows
some shallowing their depths.

-

Sometimes, I could swear
that I've known you forever.
Others, you entice me
like a wrenching stranger.

How much do I know you,
how much do I not,
for it is as tough a knot
that I find myself as due.

-

Would it be notching it up a little too much, if I do things that have nothing but two extremities? One is the exhilarating pleasure of doing it for the first ever time and the other is the disheartening pain of realising I'd never have the former.

-