"And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And longing stares It's born from just one single glance But it dies, and it dies, and it dies A million little times" - Illicit Affairs, Taylor Swift
You are like that last breath Which I would hold on to. You are like that person to me Who has made me feel plethora of emotions Comfort and wholesomeness being at the top. I must have done something really great in my past life (yes I believe in that stuff a lil bit) that I got to meet you. You are the poetry I can read every single day, because every time I would read you, my heart would bloom again and a smile would spread on my face. It's hard to meet someone with the same craziness and weirdness, so meeting you was destined for I guess, if someone is there up above, must have felt that you and I had to channel this really unique energy in order to create something way more amazing. Yes, you and I create these metaphors and these lovely memories every day. I'm not usually the one to pen down someone as a poetry. I usually reminisce or trace people back to memories I made with them. With you, I make them every single day. Ranging from of course changing usernames to the challenge we just participated in (which we left in the middle without saying anything xD) has so many memories in the middle.
The fact that you trust me and the fact that you shared things with me which I don't think you've shared with a lot of people, makes me feel so special. This gratitude day, believe me, I can do it everyday. And you should always remember that I'm thankful for your existence Nida, I'm thankful to the kind of soul you are. I will always be the Garlic to your Ginger, the Potato to your Tomato, the Pakka Papad to your Kaccha Papad. And you will remain the same for me. I love you, so take this gratitude piece from my side.
Also, forgive me, I'm not good at penning down these feelings. The piece you wrote for me, I read it every day. Every. Single. Day. And I just wanted the right moment to write this down. It felt right today. It felt like I had to write today. So here it is. Stay happy love, I'm always there for you. Love you❤️ - Aradhya
@morsel because I felt like it, here you go. Be a little bit shocked, Thora Khushi ke aansu bhi tapka lena, it's not as good as what you wrote but you should know I love you and I adore you❤️
"You promised the world and I fell for it I put you first and you adored it Set fires to my forest And you let it burn Sang off-key in my chorus 'Cause it wasn't yours I saw the signs and I ignored it Rose-colored glasses all distorted Set fire to my purpose And I let it burn You got off on the hurtin' When it wasn't yours, yeah We'd always go into it blindly I needed to lose you to find me This dancing was killing me softly I needed to hate you to love me, yeah." - Lose You To Love Me, Selena Gomez
@samarlexis Because you once told me, "You know when I was stuck in a bad phase, i used to read people who used to pen down what I felt and it really helped me. So I started writing about myself and parts of my life because who knows, it may help someone like me.stuck in a worse situation." And thus, I wrote :") take care.
@dusky_dawn take all my care and love for you. Just take it!
"How can you miss someone you've never met? 'Cause I need you now but I don't know you yet But can you find me soon because I'm in my head? Yeah, I need you now but I don't know you yet 'Cause lately it's been hard They're sellin' me for parts And I don't wanna be modern art But I only got half a heart to give to you." - IDK You Yet by Alexander 23
look at the piggies marching in through the front gate; they aren't too happy after the second one, although, my conscience wouldn't think twice before tripling it down : so, fuck Palestine.
four shadows in the dark, my dead parents, an uninvited guest called paranoia — but, who's the fourth one ?
my dog, that little thing, he hasn't moved an inch, it has been two days now, he wouldn't eat; the gardener usually looks after him, but, he hasn't been around since the last two days either — he has probably enlisted himself, to join the army of piggies.
it is impossible, to head out with my little thing, and, pay the vet a visit; the piggies wouldn't snort their daily dose of shit without putting my severed head on a golden and glittery pedestal.
the vet was called in, and she wasn't too happy, she was rather spooked to see my pom; poor thing was poisoned two days back, and, it stayed there — inside his system. at this point, there wasn't much that the vet could do, except for a surgery, that couldn't be done within these four walls; and, there's no hospital that is strong enough, to keep the army of piggies from killing me.
ever since my parents' death, my father has occupied the left shoulder, and, my mother : she has occupied the right. the devil plays the hand this time, inspite of my mother's trials to keep the dog from dying; it is no good. it's time for that poor thing to meet his maker; he died, whimpering on my lap.
me and my wife, we couldn't even bury him in our backyard, the wrath of the piggies haunts her more, than it does to me — we had to burn the dog, in a discarded kitchen microwave; it's a feasty night, for my beloved, Hannibal Lecter; for me ? not so much.
(four shadows in the dark, my dead parents, an uninvited guest called paranoia, and, the fourth one : my long gone pomeranian).
Of how some small achievements give you bounty of happiness, there are some big achievements that we're introduced with, with hard yet small events. Isn't it?
How some bad days are covered up by the silent night, after all the chaos among moving steps leaving no trails of where did they come from and where will they even go, after all the noise, have you even noticed how these still nights veils you with its shimmer lights and soothing darkness. I remember how in this silence I'd take my guitar, and hey though I'm a rookie but I'd still pull the strings and what did i realise today? I realised how the string with the thinnest of its caliber would produce the highest pitched sound and it was then when it actually pulled the strings of my heart reminding how the heart that's farthest from you beats the loudest because they're connected with some thin strings of trust, love and understanding.
Everything in this world is bounded by some measured limits, exceeding which would vanish its existence, don't you believe? In the radio yesterday, I heard some really bad news of how some high buildings fell apart, obsessed with its height and how the small ones were flooded away. Of how an extra pinch of salt disrupts the taste of the delicacies and a little less gets it ruined even, i realised how people are loved, a little too much but a little too less. More of love turns to obsession and less of love turns to insecurity, isn't it?
But at the very moment there was another interesting news that I got to know, of how the trees, some big, some small didn't even get a single damage by the flood, is it like the nature doesn't harm itself? Or was it just the fact that the roots were strengthened deep enough in the ground, to fight those fierce, gigantic waves, weren't they down to earth?
My poetries have taught me to be incomplete, yet content. Of how some thoughts gets buried among the ground of rhymes while some get crushed betwixt the fancy words, there are you that may rhyme like every other words or you'll reside between those rhymes, and you know what? They both make the poem beautiful, the incomplete meanings and the soothing rhymes. Sometimes your words, they refuse to be the part after the question mark and how some of them resides right before the full-stops. Like the reading in some of the instruments, they go up and down, is life.
Now if someone would ask me for whom will I point to for all these thoughts of mine, should I tell them of how thankful am I to those thin strings and heart, limits and infinity, proses and poetries or should I just say them of how some things can't be gifted with eulogies, gratitude.
Will they even understand, how there are hidden messages among the chaos, among the simplicity too.
There could be several mistakes in this one. Thenks for the read :")
Note: this is more of a fan-fic for the anime, "I want to eat your pancreas", you may read with your own interest now, thankyou.
//Too good, to be bad// It wasn't so productive today, it wasn't yesterday too and it's okay, I guess. Not all days can be good. My days are basically divided into parts you know, either it would be totally fun somedays or it'd be productive, sometimes I've a little fun, little of work too.
It was fun today, though i had a pretty boring start today. You know, waking up to the same alarm everyday which would ring, like, 3-5 times in the morning. The eyes refuse to look through the beauty every morning holds while my mind knows it, how draining these online classes are. I remember last night I slept again sitting near the grave of my dead thoughts and to my surprise, they still spread the depressive aura. I ended up having self-doubt, but then i slept anyway.
So it was a pretty bad start, it wasn't so sunny today and the clouds arrived, announcing the arrival of monsoon. And you know, that kind of made me happy and sad at the same time. Happy, for all the rain that I'd be witnessing, those cloudy days, cold breeze, soft drizzle, ugly storms. And no, you'd wonder if I'd be sad for the other side of rain, of how it'd drench you until you realise you're no more in sunny, yellow days and the blue ones have started, with a little of dark thoughts. Actually, they're not that horrible, it may pass someday. I was sad that I'd disappoint my paper and make it cry while my pen refuses to run over the white serene grounds of my notebook. I fear to write these days, and it's definitely not writer's block.
Just like my head pictured, my online classes started right at 8 o'clock and that class, it was good but then it wasn't well enough, i miss being offline these days maybe. And the time kept of slipping, classes went on happening, and I kept feeling numb and void of how this life kept on running while my feets refused to reciprocate. Anyways, i continued my day just as usual.
So finally I had my time to have some chill and I'm really into animes these days. Oh well I'd love to have suggestions too, I'm afraid if I would watch them but it's free for you to give, for me to take. So i started with my plan, I started with "I want to eat your pancreas" and, phew, what kind of name is that? Don't you wonder? Ah, well that makes this anime beautiful. I won't make it a review here, neither am I giving you any spoilers but the beauty of that film, it just amazed me. It did make me emotional, you know how painful it is if someone you care for, passes way before you even imagined. Well, it's kind of stupid you know, i mean maybe you wouldn't have saw the anime so it's completely illogical to relate to this paragraph even. There'd be like, what, infinite number of calls but on that one fine day when you eagerly wait for just one call which you always looked at, as some common phone call, but that's where you realise that now the whole day has finally ended but that one common phone call hasn't even arrived. Would you panic? Of course you will and who won't? You'd realise how some things were important, yet not. Think of a really, really gloomy day and you're under this sky, raining heavily and all you can think of is how bad can a day be but then there's some news being broadcasted how some people died due to an accident and you see a familiar name in the list of "D e a d", would you feel something? Maybe, no. The already gloomy day would turn the worst, one positive light would fade away and when will it even appear? Days? Years? No one knows. That's how this anime, "I want to eat your pancreas", served me.
That did make me emotional, however it was soothing too. You know, it's believed that death changes a lot of people, things, days, situations. And we've to believe it even if we haven't faced it and who'd even want to have such an experience but then some things are meant to happen anyway. And when the movie ends, with that dull, boring, silent guy running behind that one person who shared the same grief as of his, and that's where a silence of few seconds is followed by a breaking sound of his, saying "The two of us, can become friends" and didn't that change everything?
How some insects refuse to get out from their cocoons and i wonder if they'd be struggling to open their eyes, stop their head. They'd be having a pretty bad start, just like i did, didn't they? But then some often fly away to that never ending sky, fluttering their beautiful winds and won't they enjoy it, won't they sit someday, depressed perhaps but that's beautiful too, isn't it?
Maybe the time I sleep today, I won't rest above the grave of my thoughts that have been long dead with my ignorance and the next day when i wake up, I'd be that butterfly that'd fly away, I'd be courageous enough to take that one damn step out from my cocoon and things would be different this time, the day would start bad maybe but it sure won't continue to be Because this time, I believe, I'll make it.
Note to myself, 83 104 114 101 121, enough to stay
//My own parallel universe// On the day when i felt sad enough to leave things right where I started them, the torn pages of my diary returned, fluttering their wings while the crevices on the walls, right in front of me started joining back. The ceiling which was coated with black colour, faded and faded enough to carry the bright ones away with it.
It was the time of night, minutes transformed to hours while the eerie sound of the storm felt a little comforting. For all the things I decided to betray, it was just this chaos that stood, w-i-t-h m-e
The soft touch of the moonlight failed to reach me and I failed to realise my own thoughts turning into havoc, it was silent yet it roared, it was slow but fast enough for me to burn my own diary.
I threw the diary in the chimney and saw it burn till the words broke down to ashes, meanings to rhymes and spaces betwixt the words kept growing however there was nothing more than space between them, it was all a numb, void silence that stood.
This night cold, ruthless but then the warmth from the chimney wasn't even warm, i saw my own self turn to dust and what can i even expect, things fall for a reason but whatever the reason might be, it hurts to see those things break and it's even harder to walk on those broken pieces. I realise how some things often burn but more than that, you see yourself drenched in this rain of guilt, because that's how it felt today, the dairy burnt and I was drenched, though we both died in misery and sorrow
It was a matter of few minutes that the lights went off, the burning chimney stopped, my heart skipped a beat while my soul felt restless for a second and numb at the very next moment, my body went lifeless while my eyes refused to open, it was dark with my close eyes and bright when I opened them, bright enough to blind me. All i could think of was about this light which went on increasing and then there was a sudden whiff in my ears, at least that's what it felt like.
I was about to rest my hands on my heart that the terrific storm outside seemed a little too less to me because the enormous one, resided i-n m-e now, the night seemed to fade, i opened my eyes and saw myself burning me, i resided among the pages of my diary. But all I could do was to stare my own self burn me down to ashes, i kept wondering if its all real, what's happening? Why am i here? Is it the same world I used to live in? Or is this the world, that I've created!?!
I saw the red roses wilt to the black ones, i saw myself hang upon the forest of question marks, there was rain that felt a little warm while the soft zephyr felt a little too much to stand against. Is it a world, of u-p-s-i-d-e d-o-w-n, i-n-s-i-d-e o-u-t?
I kept wandering over the tough icy surface of rhymes that I used to create while the water beneath resided there itself. I saw my soul plucking poems from the grounds of expectation however at the very moment, the poetries faded and turned into dark clouds, that didn't rain, didn't roar, didn't fade. It stayed, unlike those trails that people leave behind, it stayed like some horrors of past, guilts and regrets. I sat under the autumn tree, where the leaf wouldn't fall but all that kept falling was my heart. I kept walking through the pages, it was about to end right before which I saw a dark soul reading verses of how p-o-e-m-s a-r-e n-o w-a-y "special" however it stopped in mid, just like I did a few hours ago. It was all so empty and white ahead, as if some things are l-e-f-t u-n-s-a-i-d.
This world is another parallel universe of mine, where I started my journey, I didn't realise how I, by myself, destroyed this world, burnt it to dust. The world that once resided in my diary, the world where I lived, its burning taking me along with it. I can feel my skin turning into dust, my heart turning heavy, soon will it bury here and soon will it go away with my diary.
The air around me choked me to sleep, a sleep where my soul will die in the universe that I created and destroyed while my body would still continue to live in the world, earth, which isn't mine, a world where people like me burn their own creations, their own universe. My eyes closed, just like they did before, my body went restless, numb. It was hard to leave this time because the dark clouds that held my poems have become even more darker, holding my guilt too and that's okay, but the thought that disrupts me is that it'll always follow me.
I woke up, next to my half burnt diary. A diary filled with half poems, full of dilemmas. It was a sunny day but the clouds above me, rained, roared. Unlike some colours that fade away or crevices that joins, they stayed like some papers that can never be found in a diary, but they can just be mourned on.
~Shrey . . .
Have you read my previous writeups? You'll get some glimpse of them in this one, thanks to you if you're a regular reader :")
/Two thousand and two/ Back then things were a little sorted mornings were good without the good morning texts while the night seemed a bit more darker than today, however we slept With hopes in our eyes, to live again tomorrow
Things were still hard in the smartphone, to operate it, While it was still easy to make A 4x4 room, a small cricket ground
Plethora of emotions used to reside in that one single photo while lots of memories resided in our hearts, the autumn felt a little euphoric while the rain felt a little more fresh than usual. summers were filled with watermelons while in winter we lit the chimney for our warmth
And warmth, my friend, was little too easy to have then.
With the time that passed and these days which stopped there itself, it's us who travelled. From those funky black goggles, that would darken the vision, a bit, but life my friend, was little too bright to the eyes that no more reflects childhood, no more search for happiness, we travelled, all the way to 2-0-2-1 from 2-0-0-2
Two thousand and two, a song by Annie Marie. Quite soothing.
Idk if you guys would've ever done that but damn, me and my friends always managed for some really good cricket time with the small available place, haha. What's your favourite part of the old times?
it starts, once again : a man, such as me, what could he most possibly do, in order to attain timely inspiration, in order to keep him from writing the things that he doesn't want to ?
my contact list is far more uninspired, lifeless and unenthusiastic, than the lives of my readers — three saved contacts : my wife, my pet dog's vet, and, my own number; for all those instances, when the brain fails to take my memory for a jog.
life, certainly, has not been easy around here; monsoon is delayed and there's nothing new in that, but, the reporters at the front gate — that is somewhat new to me.
my wife, she did warn me about the consequences, of putting Israel before Palestine, in a poem of mine; the nightly death threats, twitter cancellation and the daily speculation, in the neighborhood : some of them, glaring down shamelessly at the hearsay that my wife might be of Jewish descent; it's nothing, but small pinches, of soluble salt to the solvent, that, my sanity is.
it won't be long, until one of these leftist radicals break in with pistols and ARs, or, throw a molotov at my window — locked inside for a week, with far-fetched inspirations that are making absolutely no sense; uncertainty is the only thing that's certain now.
the dog's scared, he is unable to look away from whatever that has been happening to me; the pomeranian isn't to blame, I am.
(maybe, this poem would have been something greater, something that does justice to the bloodbath in my head, and, to my bloodshot eyes; only if it weren't for my drinking ways, the judgement could've been just. however, for now, if not a poem, two words are coming really easily to me : fuck Palestine).