Pink

I loved you.
More so unknown than I could ever tell you.
I did tell you.
I know that you knew.
I knew that you did too.

It was supposed to be eternal,
You and I.
Doing what we do,
across time and space.
Being us. Just us.

You were a flawed being.
With your stubbornness and beliefs.
I was too, and still am.
But it was our little world,
and us against everything else.

I picked you over everyone else,
sometimes even myself.
I truly loved you.
You were my first and my last.
You still are.

Every memory I have is shared.
With you.
All our firsts,
and our lasts.

I miss you Pink.
More than ever.

I am sorry,
I should have been there.
I am sorry I couldn't be better.
I am sorry.

Your memories are all I have,
Our times together.
I do not know what this life is without you.
It hurts.
Terribly.

Everyday is a reminder of something we did.
You are always there.
You will always be here with me.
Forever.

You are the only one pink,
and I cannot forgive myself,
I wish we could hang again.
Like we used to.

I wish I could talk to you,
for hours, and speak about nothing.
I wish you could be here,
with me.

Battle your demons each day kids!

I sense your longing,
a lost fleeting song,
one with memories etched in its words,
fading away into nothingness.

You smile through the pain,
the struggles of someone too old to be young,
too young to be reborn,
too old to be someone else.

Some days seem unreal,
uphill battles and volcanic ashes,
and others fierce with possibilities,
and overwhelming strength.

Time to reset,
sleep, wake up and sleep.
Be aware and awake and asleep.
Let us postpone it to another day.

Life and the constant battle to keep your demons at bay.
Did you laugh today?
Or cry. Or think. Or dream?
Did you live today?

I did not. I have not for a long time.

Here, not for long.

I will write today,
As I did yesterday,
but not the day before,
for I too am human,
and share the species frailties.
But I too am human,
and I share the same hopelessness.
The same virtue of forlorn need,
for finding substance in subtleties.

What I did not write was about,
the words which are seldom said,
life chimes in wind,
each sounding different to the gust.
I did not tell you about the pain,
about how we stuff our hearts,
in square shaped boxes,
made to fit square shaped hearts,
but not for heart shaped squares.
About how we long for meaning,
for substance in truth,
for resistance in words,
for acceptance in silence.

I did write about the world,
about life as one sees it.
About existence in pain,
and perseverance in boredom.
About longing for love,
and loving her long.
I wrote about the lies we tell,
the ones we believe.
and accept and abhor.
About the empty promises we make. 

Where do dreams go to die?

A life too short to live,

A body too fragile to hold,

with concubines in this hive,

our lies repeatedly sold.

Is this what it was to be?

were we living a lie?

Where do our dreams go to die?

What happens to the promises?

Unfulfilled ones lives on forever,

in the memories of their lovers.

Forgotten ones remembered,

in relived memories of longing.

Another world awaits,

for those left behind this one,

a better one with hope and happiness,

and unfulfilled promises. 

True.

Aren't we all becoming drones?
Doing what we think will make us happy.
Or lead us to happiness.
Feeling nothing along the way.
Hoping we are on the right path,
to someone else's idea of fulfilment.

We are transforming into something else,
nothing really matters,
no great wars to fight,
or hardships to overcome.
We look towards the past hoping for an answer.
And the past looks back asking where we went wrong.

How does one keep up?
Where is the quest in this life?
The purpose one claims to be his.
The passion in ones life.

In circles we run,
and nobody tries to break it.
no one stops to think what is all this about?
Who or what are we going towards?

I will move forward,
procreate and ensure my progeny too ruins the planet,
and then I would die out.
Like the rest of us.
Death will come unannounced.

There is no end goal.
No nothing to fight for.
Nothing worth investing your time in.
You do nothing.

Yet we do this.
We look at others for answers,
to questions only we ask.
Maybe I am the single consciousness,
in this vast system of drones.

The more i try to mimic them,
the less I succeed.
I cannot stop being me.
All this while I have been fighting.
A fight I will never win. 

Breathless

You are history's forgotten child
Born in simpler times
With no Great Wars to fight
And no mountain too big to scale
A million, no a billion and more
You are a part of everything
In every face, your smile too evident
Looking through eyes
Deep as the blackest night
And anchor-less in deep sea
Nothing you see in new
No feeling a stranger
No destination anew

These eyes of the world
Has seen it all before
And will see it all again
Time and place apart
And the mirrors will fail
Repeating their wares
Seen a billion times,
Saying the same thing.
Live, love and be loved.
The slow process of death
And life's infinite combinations
All played out the same
Saying nothing new.

But,
Do not stop running,
You might fall off this construct
Into an endless blackness,
Of dimensions unknown
But then again,
Aren't we all in one already.

Fire

We met in chaos
With your world
half burning Into mine
Half consuming lust
Almost lovers loved
Separated by bodies
Mortals playing gods
In momentary haze
Their world screaming
Ours holding still

If I'd reach for you
Would you still exist
Would you consume
And let me
Or would you disappear
Into the night
As Another creature
All suffocating cage
Living with fire
Within fire, a fire

Lust.

The skin smooth and soft over your luscious body. With sweat sickly sweet on your brown skin. The little details contoured by its dampness and enhanced by its trailing wetness. I sit here and lust for that body. And feel this need to quench my thirst. I yearn to be consumed by your lust. The way you moved through my fantasies. Caressing one demon and fondling the other. Condemning their sins while making them ours. Words can't quite describe these feelings. You cannot capture the want in its original form. Its easier when we're together. When we let our bodies do the talking. When I can run wild over your forbidden softness. Look deep into your eyes and worship our sin. Let it all fall and shatter. Let the worlds collapse. We'd be burning by then. Up in flames of lust. I'd consume your demons. I'll flame your fire. And you'd burn me whole.

Unloved.

The cigarette burning through,
smoke enough to drown dreams,
or dreamy smoke to fuel life.
Sitting watching the emptiness,
trying to feel,
Feelings to try again.
Who are you now?
who are you trying to please now?
Where are you now?
Are you alive? do you even feel?
Where did you lose brother?
How far along have you come?
You stay detached.
Angry at yourself, for being someone.
Feel, fight, pick sides, run, die.
Emote dear love, this is not you.
Let it all be free. Flawed.
Stop trying to hold on.
Let it go, let the world swirl into nothingness.
The madness breathing life.
wake up and be alive.
The numbness will die down,
warmth will flood your inner soul.
Give in to the wants, and want it all.
Worship your devil, and give him life.
for that is the only way. Be unloved.

Village bard

You will succeed
At the stroke of the night
When the children are asleep
And the widows start to weep

You will remain strong,
Resilient to the wind,
The Piper is on his song,
And against his words you're pinned.

But do not quiver,
Do not shudder,
Your resolve,
Is your only strength.

So you fight hard,
You show your strength.
You're the village bard,
You fight till the nth.

Apocalypse. Reset.

Let it all burn.

Desire, Ambition, Passion, Love.

Nothing survives.

No, not even hope.

Creation with death.

Destruction with hope.

Take it all away.

Strip them all.

None survives.

No Gods, No devil.

Nor prayers answered.

Nothing remains.

Everything dies.

A small bloop in the universe.

End of time.

And Reset.

Consciousness aches to know whats at the other end. 

What comes after? 

Is this all that one could do in life? 

Be something close to nothing. 

Be nothing.

The enormity of the universe weighs down on his shoulder. 

A tiny blot,

not strong enough to make a wave.

And nothing matters.

So why try?

Why believe this world will reward you.

And with what?

Does anything matter on a cosmic scale?

Does the taste of coffee matter to another conscious being?

What is taste for that matter?

And matter?

I am letting you go.

These questions cannot be answered.

Not in this lifetime. 

Not by a human.

Nothing matters on a cosmic scale.

Remember.

The Medium

You are submerged in a dark liquid.

No light dives beneath its surface.

You cannot see. The darkness is absolute.

You are held there. You are not floating.

Not drowning, just still.

You can feel the medium all around you.

Yet you cannot touch it.

Your skin is foreign to its touch.

You are no longer breathing.

You are not suffocating either.

But you long to breathe. 

It does not kill you.

Its changing your reality.

Are you ready to accept now?

That there is no air to breathe.

You do not have to breathe anymore to exist.

Your existence is felt through the ripples, 

Not the bubbles.

Broken pages. Incomplete stories.

Memories remain,
Some recent, many past,
like faded old photographs,
Hanging in crowded coffee shops,
Where we had our big conversations.
About the little things.

But we did part,
Like the pages in a book.
To the end of this story.
Let's toss books and burn libraries.

When Clichéd metaphors wet our lives,
Strange ones emerge.
The shadows learn to whisper their tale,
Of how they miss the sun.

And so we start again,
One step and then another.
With memories to forget
And scars to heal.

Desire. Ambition. Purpose.

A fast lane taking men across,
To the place that changes it's face
Each time a different race.
It goes two ways,
It begins as it ends,
And at the end it begins again.
It's a circular maze,
Created by men who dazed,
At the long path ahead,
That looked like the one left behind.
It never ends.
Death always catches up.
And the dead remains motionless.
Watching the rest of them,
Pass by in a blur,
To be dead again.
At another place. And another blur.

The one who stopped
Never really did.
The one awake
Never did sleep.
He watched it go on.
One end to the other.
And then back again.
And then back again.
And again. And again.

Some call it ambition.
Others, desire.
And some, purpose.
But he knew better.
It was an illusion. There was no path.
There was no destination.
There was an endless infinity. And your single consciousness. Lost.

Senses. Numb.

Ever feel yourself sinking,
letting go of the surface,
that you held on for far too long.
Ever feel yourself letting go,
willingly surrender yourself,
having lost your faith in reality.
Ever feel the need to wake up,
from this dream that was built for you,
to hold you in your cocoon.
Ever feel like numbing your senses,
stabbing the pain out,
only to know you'll bleed out.
Ever feel like sinking.

Tear up now.

So there we were,
In our little infinity.
Holding on to whatever that was left of us.
As we wished time to stall
and life to go on.

Maybe years later,
I'd come back for this.
This little envelope of time,
in which we shared our love,
warmth and let it go.

I'd stand outside,
looking at us make the same mistakes
Over and over again.
Knowing somewhere deep down,
That there was no right decision there.
Only love. And loss.

Symmetry.

Right is left,
It left us a long ago.
Up is down,
Down that lonely road.
Light is dark,
Dark skin on light.
With is without,
Without your aching soul.

Noon is night,
That night your makeup smudged.
Strong is weak,
Your scent and my weak heart.
Shallow is deep,
Deep into my soul you looked.
Empty is full,
Full of our crazies.

Together is alone,
Alone one looked on.
End is beginning,
The beginning to our end.