Quantity versus Quality

I’m sitting alone inside my head and wondering best how to utilise the free time that I have. A voice at the farthest corner keeps whispering that I’m doing it all wrong. I hear the dying whispers and ignore it. I know it speaks the truth and the truth is what I fear. As little …

Startled and Died

My will to push myBoundry is slowly dying.I only desire to lie backAnd be one more additive,A catalyst, to anEquation I no longerUnderstand. My arms are heavy withThe load I've drawn andLifted. My muscles are taut andThick,But without intent.My gaze, Intelligent,But without hope. A loaded dice rolledA Thirty something whileI argued about myChildhood's faults. When …

A Wedding Gift

From morning freshnessTo the sleepy nights,From the angsty teenTo the old and wise. It took its timeTo reach the end,It went through Knells and bogs and glades and glens. From naughty and young asThe lovers lived,From the seriousPains that the ages built. All to the end the wearyTravellers rests,At last at Home withTheir beloved best. …

Thrash and Flail

Gasping for breath,I Thrash aroundTo stay afloat. Within this dilemmaOf broken thoughtsAnd bent wills, My dying body is theDichotomy of nature'sReason to kill andTo breed. My flailing arms, myBubbled breathing andMy aching joints are witness To the need of theGoddess of wilderness toFeed its hungry souls. The strength of myArms, the extent of myLungs to …

Sugarless

I took a walk to clear my head. I told myself that I needed airTo make me think straight. It took me a quarter of anHour to walk the circuitThat enclosed my regularArea of work. I walked around the smallMilk bar (where I write thisFrom), a mosque (which I've neverPatronised), the sole stationery Store in the area …

Ho Ho Ho

I beg to be released, To be let out; The shackles hold me close, And they hold me dear. I need assistance to Escape the hell I've Woven for my boredom. But the thick blanket Of self-deprecating Humour Prevents help from Reaching on time. And the cycle resets Itself and runs the agony Of my …

Slaves

Scratch. Cancel. Change. For every word there is, A better one is hidden. A feeling as potent as pure; To attempt a coup Is inviting farce. The nib scratches out A word, Then cancels the Entire line, Giving up. Tears well up, Then run dry. What once was loved, Now lies unused. My pen scrambles …

Therapy

I list items down, and then manually Alphabetise them. Not convinced, I filter them again. This time based On length. I sigh. Content with what I achieved as I Sat and laboured through 14 items; 3 starting with an S And 2 with W's. My therapist asked me to 'Count my achievements And to bask …

Conversations

I hate conversations; If I'm expected To be an active Participant. Conversations in Elevators. Especially elevators. Enclosed within The confines, the Claustrophobia, The weak smiles, The soft salaams, The awkwardness. I fake phone calls If I reach the Elevator and see Someone else Waiting for it. I have even learnt By rote, the number And …

Go on…

I begin with a promise To myself, And to you in turn. I will not pace myself With fiction. I would not lie to you, And would not distance Myself from your Disdain and Distrust. My pen flows freely, Without spurts and Without breaking My prose's stride. It's easy, for my prose Lacks character. It …