Wednesday, December 23, 2009


Glistening memories from inside your core. Secrets, I hope. I can sense your unease in the pauses between one word and another. And I wish more than ever I'd known you then. But at least I do now. And that's a lot more than I deserve because I look for mistakes and flaws in perfection. And that, you are. And you make me shine from the inside, bring out the spectrum and you may not see it but I feel it. You make me believe in diamonds. Shine, shimmer and sparkle forever.

After all, diamonds too are carbon at heart.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Are You in the Game? Dans the Love Game.

The world knows no better game. Let's play Love, baby.

The first move into unfamiliar territory. Delicious like always. Those first few conversations when you get to know me. Six, two. Five, four. Across the board.
"A little gambling is fun when you're with me. And baby when it's love, if it's not rough it isn't fun".
I'll follow you around, chase you, memorize your technique. Understand your mind.
A little too well. Yawn.
We'll get tired of this game we play. Sooner or later. But you're the one who's known the tricks longer. The shortcuts. The ways. And you will crush me.
Before I'll know it 'Game Over'
Knock Out.
The End.
You Win.

-Inspired by Crazy Lady and Lady GaGa.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

The World At Your Feet

Cracked, withered toy. You lost your charm long ago.
And that's how we've grown to like you now. Broken and rusty. Better. Satisfying, it is. Atleast.

I don't care about the rest of the world. I hate you.
You might be everyone's oldest favourite but you're disgusting. And you know it.

Monday, November 23, 2009

I am broken because of you.
I am happy because of you.
I am empty because of you.
I am one because of you.
I am awake because of you.
I am alive because of you.

I am dissolving because of you.

Monday, November 9, 2009

So when you're head is empty and there's nothing left to think about, remember me.
Because I deserve at least that much time with you.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Riot of Fun

Crystal clear moments in time.
The only reason worth living for.

So when ordinary will merge with extraordinary and magic will happen before us like a performance and we'll be spellbound, I'll remember you. And the your words that made it happen. And I'll thank you.

So thank you.
Because now is like that too. To be savoured while it lasts. Before the crystal breaks. And cuts me. Deep.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Wait is death.
Minute by minute.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Second chilly morning of new born winter. Sweaters, my friends, are like wearable sex.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

And all I see is where else I could be
When I'm at home,
And in your arms to be,
Is the only possibility to not be alone.

Inspired by:
Your Heart Is An Empty Room

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Analyzing You

So how are you now anyway?


I see a gap. And no, you may not make another excuse to try to explain it. Go ahead, call it a 'lull period'. Call it a fucking misunderstanding.
Do whatever the fuck you want to do with your precious self and your valuable time. You've hurt me enough. And I've had enough of your wounded little drama.
And why should I pretend? Oh, maybe one day things will be the way they were. Laughter and nothing but.
Yeah, right.
Let's see you try and make a little effort. Not going to happen, am I right?
Because you only choose to miss those who hurt you and those who help will always be there.

And you don't take in much of it, do you? So read this and call me whatever the fuck you want to.
But now, in your heart you're always going to know, you're the one that brought us down. You're the one that gave up.
So go on, blame me. Put the weight on my shoulders and run away. Run. Because it's what you do best. Escapist inside a rock-solid box.

So let me now ask:
Who Are You?

Because you definitely are not the friend I once knew.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

And now is when I cant tell where I end and you begin.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

The teabag plunges into the bubbling water.

The best red mug we own. Water boiled for exactly 4 and a 1/2 minutes. Strained just in case. Milk from the little carton. 1 and a 1/4 teaspoons of sugar.

The bag makes a splash and drops of water burn my fingers. The tea infuses itself, sends down swirls of the deepest brown into every part of the mug. Slowly it all becomes one - black. Like my blackened heart, or your faith. Back to the tea, I add a little white and it is now the exact same colour of your skin, and mine. Because your skin is mine, and your eyes also. Mix the sugar, let it dissolve, and fuse with the love. A liquid tea kiss, for you. Just the way you like it.

Plus a smile because you've been extra well-behaved lately.

"It's too watery. I don't want it."

Saturday, September 26, 2009

The Storyteller and I

He is a writer. A gifted, talented storyteller. He lives through his pages, his paragraphs, his words. His rhymes and his songs. Taken right out of the mouths of the people around him, those who love him, are his most beautiful dialogues. But his life is his work only, each book he completes, a new chapter in his life. New characters, new backdrops means new people, new places. He uses them; in return for the love they give him, he gives them a place in his pages. A chance to be a part of him, for a while. An opportunity to feel complete,but only to be stowed away amongst the many other pages filled with his hurried handwriting. Yet they crave to be captured in his poem, to be trapped under a spell of beauty and bittersweet reality.

I, too, am a writer. A work-in-progress. A slow learner, a secret-keeper. A secret that's locked beneath the layers of my body, and soul. A haunting secret that now fades away. That I still burn for the storyteller, with anger. And affection. And I'm hollow but that's okay. Something better is around the corner and I see it. My stories are not abrupt, like his, or painful. But like sequels in an adventure, moving forward but turning back to grab someone's hand. And running, from him. The same characters but a better, newer story. Calm and somewhat stagnant and beautiful and perfect.

Friday, September 18, 2009


Friday, September 4, 2009

Because It Feels Good

I think it's fun to burn paper.

Especially when it has your words on it.

Even better if it's your picture.


I light the match. Inhale the acrid smell of sulfur. Tear out all the pages and run the match along the side.The suffocating smoke enters my nose and I cough. Paper turns orange, then white, slowly gray and finally black. I blow at the ashes and they scatter all over, glide in the air and land in the sink, glue themselves to the tiny droplets of water. I turn the tap. First the gargling sound then the splashes. The embers are washed away, leaving black traces on the white sink. Brown smudges too, from the yellow edges of the paper. These stains will have to be cleaned, the water fails to remove them. Detergent should do the trick. I squeeze the bottle, squirt the yellow stuff and rub with my fingers. The lemony/zesty fragrance is bliss. Bubbles, tiny and beautiful, swirl down and into the drain. I now have nice-smelling hands.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Today is the day your face is a blur in my head and the memory of the sound of your voice fades away.

Sour Grapes

Oh wait...I remember that smile.
Oh yeah, I see it. But I don't see her. Where did she go?
Is this the part where I panic? Yeah, I believe it is.
I'm walking past the mirror. No reflection!?
I rub my eyes and they start to water. Am I crying for you? Yeah, I believe so.
I'm squinting now. Nothing.
Hey, wait, I get it.
I'm invisible without you.
Yeah, so now my head is spinning.
The wind is blowing, outside. Storm, inside.
There is heat/sweat/panic/worry/pain/confusion/anger.
And so I eat grapes. For the fourth time. But they are sour. Like the realization of my mistake. The only difference is that unlike grapes, I can't count my mistakes.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Gay Phases :P

Hey baby, I know you're so sleepy,
But will you listen to me?

It should just be
You and Me
On a perfect day,
Let's laugh, let's play.
It's getting late and slightly dark,
Lucky us,
I live near the park.

Look at the starry skies above
We don't need to be in Love.
Who needs boys,
Or the games they play?
We've got friends
And they're here to stay.
Whisper a Secret into my ear.
Oh in my head I can hear
All those songs
From Seasons past.
Guess what?
We're going to bring it back.
And I promise I'll try
To understand your Pain
Hey, don't You cry
All alone again.
Make me wet
With all your Tears,
Just let me know
All your Fears.
I am still raw
From yesterdays ache
Because I never saw,
He was a fake.
I'll make it through
And so will You
And It won't be hard
I promise You.

The World is our own
Now we're all-grown.
They can't hold us back
'Cause we will do
Anything we set our hearts to.
We won't need money,
And forget about that Ecstasy
Because tonight
We're going to be Happy,
Really, Truly.

Without You
Life's a waste of Time,
He promised Me
But He was never mine.
We'll put together
These Broken Hearts,
A little Time
Will glue these parts.
Words, Sentences and Feelings
Seem to lack all meaning.
We'll look for something
Better, Deeper.

Sometimes, when it's too dark
And I can't tell apart
Wrong from Right
Or Black from White,
Help me see
The Lights ahead.
And let's have a little fun instead!

Thursday, August 20, 2009

there's happy spells and floods of fun,
on a wet day, but under the sun.

call their names, out so loud,
we needed an excuse to scream and shout.

summer made me lose all hope,
winter's ahead, i'm going to try once more.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

From the StrawberrySwing

Ah, now the sky could be blue,
I don't mind,
Without you it's a waste of time,
Could be blue,
Could be gray,
Without you I'm just miles away,
Could be blue,
I don't mind,
Without you it's a waste of time,
Could be blue,
Could be gray,
Without I just slide away.

"I love you."
"Prove it," she said into the phone, with the most playful smile on her face.
"What the fuck? Take it or leave it."