nature’s outlaw

Knives hurt less, you were a double-edged sword.

i took down all the clocks, i wrecked the windows,
i drank off the icicles guesting on the thatched roof of my shanty heart,
i walked backwards, i slept upside down, I ate my own words,
so we could love.
you gave me signs, you were nature’s outlaw.
you were the marauding storm, pregnant with homesickness,
you carried desire and death. I should have stayed inside.
you came back again,

offered an apology, more desire and more death,
brought remains from your ravages so we could rebuild;
you promised that this time you’ll ransack at night
without noise,
you pleaded I won’t know of it at all;
you tucked your head inside my belly
and hung lose on my spine,
you cried,
‘I am sorry,
I can’t help it’.

you perched on the sickly marbled portico,
and gaily spread all your loot before a garden weeded with flowers,
I couldn’t choose what you’d use
this time.

you promised it won’t be like last time,
it won’t be exactly like last time. you laughed
and raised your fists, ‘these are big boys now’.
i believed you,

you don’t walk the same street twice.
so you entered from the back door
and this time, you made blue marks on my flesh
because you had learnt my maps so well.

and struck at the right places for not forgiving you
even when you apologised. you called me weak, ungrateful.
you stripped my skin like I was a snake and my skin could be stripped,
and dragged it on the streets for you could not afford to walk without me.
you had to carry something that belonged to me.
I have marred your life, even as you plundered mine.
snakes know how to grow new skins,
but which ever you street you go, the trail of my blood follows you.

even when you apologised.

First, they loot,
and then call us poor.



Every time you

tell your daughter
to say yes
to that she wants
to say no to,
you teach her
to confuse
her no with your yes,
which seems like a good idea
till she grows up
and forgets to say no
to all the things
she should’ve,

-From a bad daughter.

(because rupi kaur got me thinking. Also read her original poem from which this one is inspired.)

random number 3931

random number 3931



He took a deep breath and came close to her, overlooking knots of people strewn about him, some cussing, some getting cussed at; he wanted to touch her simply to confirm that his madness does, after all, have a real cause, like a guerrilla sliding his hand down his waist to clutch his gun and feel its cold steel solidity in the wake of an armed revolution, as if that could defy his humane doubts and plunge him into the center of his cause.

“I love you, and I feel ashamed to tell you this. You with this laugh, these fingers, these dirty pair of converse, look so human and incapable of understanding what I’m saying”.
She with her laugh, her fingers, her dirty pair of converse, drew back.
“You’re making somebody feel so loved, is that not enough for you lovers?”

random number 3931

Why did I?

When he breathed, it felt like music,

Running through my head,

Like those unforgotten tunes.

The sun felt warm,

the smell of his hair, warmer

the same dream, night after night

like a movie, played again and again

love was the slippery ground,

I had those cautious feet

But we slipped together,

and it didn’t even hurt.


Why did I open my eyes?

Known too well

I looked into your eyes.

There was a truth in them.Or maybe the truth I had known,


There was love.

A reflection of my love?

But there was.A love that scares you.

So perfect that you move back

With abated breath, a heart held tightly within, trembling feet, and closed eyes

Fear of having found just what you were looking for?

What will I do?

I have known the urge, the urge too well.

And this love,

It tells me, right now, to leave you, and keep the urge with me.

I have loved the urge of loving you too long to let it go.

I have known the urge, the urge too well.

Let me keep the dreams,you take yourself away.That is the only world I have known, known too well.

The House

It’s been a long time since I have written
irrespective of the needs many; despite,
the various seasons that I withheld inside
amidst the perpetual lugubrious drought

I could see the phantom like phoenix of dead fears
turning into tangible contours of astute enemies
amidst the pale pallor of dark house, they rose
like the shadow on the wall when I burned the candle of sight
they rose and spread on the wall of my hearts,
and the burning candle lost its light.
the light run amok like a frenzied widow who just lost her love
like an aimless shout in the air to summon the ones who have left for eternity.

I could see the vast ocean of crimson love,
turning into a dry stream of crass weeds
the sweetness of youthful romance and summer dalliance
held the ankles of my heart and reached for the debilitative ruins
of whatever was left of it; the darkness of the phantoms
proved too dark for the vastness of my withered heart.
the horizon receded slowly touching my feet
and the ocean was now nowhere to be seen.

Like a house freshly looted of its gold and gilded air
when the sense of loss is ineluctably too heavy for the shoulders
when the weight forces us to fall and break down
when no other time will we feel the empty walls
to strike us this hard again; and then the dust of anger
sprinkles itself on the carpet-less wooden floor
and over the years the dust becomes its only tenant.
I could see the dark phantoms carrying the spoils of my heart
I was also a witness of the formidable anger
but like the vain dust, it only reminded me
of the years the house has spent with no one inside.
the more it grew, the deeper this rooted itself.

Yet It’s been a long time since I have written
irrespective of the needs many; despite,
the various seasons that I withheld inside
amidst the perpetual lugubrious drought