Stalker syndrome

What is it that you miss... The company , Or the lack of Lonely?

Counterfeit

I talk in a language that's different from yours,I write in another,one that voices my deepest thoughts.I converse with strangers and speak in a toneThat I'd never identify as my own. I twist tales in a borrowed tongueMy own vernacular, my mother tongueIs one I speak but know not how to read or writeIt's not …

HAPPY

You put down a thought Into an end of that book,Hoed yourself out, almost unwittingly. Tired, Kept a tea cup Precariously perched: Abstract art now lays tattooed And as my fingers trace marks Wondering about these patterns, Of minds lost : Or captured perhaps ? Blocks of ink create craters, Did they run deeper More …

LONELY

If expectations were meant to be met Obligated to bow to unvoiced demands; Would I be happy? Or forever seek more and tarry Voicing my wants? It’s not my prerogative and yet More than you seeking When I reach out to help you It is my ego that adjures Coaxes prods and forever yearns. Is …

Plastic Sunsets

listen before i go Woke up late tonight: To empty voice notes And calls from friends and family alike, They’ve got muddy reflections Of societies expectations of me; Mired down by my egos brutality, All I want is someone to admire me.  Got my coffee going And yet no plans to stay up past 8, …

The Good Doctor: the flip side

The art of medicine lies in amusing the patient while nature cures the disease-VOLTAIRE About a year or two  back I had a conversation with an old friend after nearly 6 months or may be more. During our talk(texts) I said how I'd rather be in the field I am today i.e medicine than anywhere …

Yesterday

Collisions of serendipity Shaping and conforming; For today let me just confide Play truce to emotions that defy Logic and reasoning. Yesterday was loss- Amidst the ruins of childhood dreams Strewn over longings living room, Did a yard sale- For the cost of five traded Much of all that was mine. In gathered crumpled notes …

ADDICTIONS

If love were a colour I’d paint you black All encompassing Whole and unforgiving If it were a song I’d call it silence, Ubiquitous and sweet A panacea for an aching heart If you were an emotion I’d call you nostalgia- The petrichor On my childhood yard; The sense of my mother’s embrace. I’d disfigure …

Isolation

I cut my chains: I saw disfigured wrists With hues of purple as I dipped my hand into the indigo soil. I saw apartheid ln the Shadows Of familiar faces that I strive to forget. I want to remove these garbs And rags of disdain I wished to un curve the belly That has receded …

Why ?

why do I write ? I write because I can. This is the one selfish endeavor I indulge in which sometimes can be the least selfish thing I do. I don't look at how many views a post gets, how many people comment, I've never been freshly pressed. I have never taken this seriously. However, …