kanikachugh

www.instagram.com/mysticlandwriter/

Author of ~My Bitter Moon~. Now available on Amazon �� IG- mysticlandwriter

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  • kanikachugh 1d

    I write.

    I write because nothing else makes sense to me. I write because everything I see speaks volume to me. I sit at the edge of the world questioning every celestial being of how they keep going with years old job without any complaints. I ask a pigeon if it can hand over some scriptures of their language and the technique of their flight with nothing holding them down.

    And then my lips utter some verses; of life, of death, of excitement, of quarrels that somehow withdraws as well as connects me to this world.
    I talk to a bird. How we don't share a conversation and yet feel happy in each other's presence. I write about my old keys, the tea I like, the kiss I shared and the time I cried for my mother.

    When the light around me mellows down and the blood flowing gets cold, words wrap me around in an old comfy cardigan. A candle lit table gathers my disoriented thoughts and sweeps me away from under the cold tongue of January.

    And I write. Because I don't feel it's just a hobby for me. It has surpassed being a passion either. It somehow has become, close to, my reason to live. I started because I wanted to survive but my subconsciousness has now accepted it as a second-nature-friend, like your mood swings, the one who would never leave you.

    I don't wish to write only about the pain. I want to write about everything. I don't want to use writing as a coping mechanism anymore but as an instant mint that refreshes my breath and brings back the confidence that I don't always need rainbows or unicorns to feel better. I can fix myself before turning into ashes and rising again. Because believe me, the process is draining and exhaustive. And I just want to do better than how I did yesterday. So I write, to keep me fierce, to keep me grounded.

    ©kanikachugh

  • kanikachugh 2d

    Might not make much sense. Wrote it in my mind in half-sleep and then got up to complete.

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    I plunged into
    an abyss of,
    what looked
    like a
    fish tank.

    The barcode
    on the outside
    counted the
    breaths, equivalent
    to the number of
    dreams I bore.

    I flailed
    I flowed
    I floated
    I drowned.
    Deep into
    the water.

    A baseless thrust,
    a directionless intent.
    "Once I'll set my grey toe
    My dreams will put an
    end to my swelling blues"
    I thought.

    It went on.
    A never-ending,
    crash-dive,
    pitch dark
    regularity,
    impaling
    my breaths.

    War wars
    Everywhere.
    "I'll dream
    once I'll lay
    my foot on land",
    I thought again.

    It was exhausting.
    I got barbed wire
    from the ones
    that looked exactly
    like me.

    I needed my
    root to foot.
    May be I'd kill
    or two
    to catapult
    myself from here,
    but I didn't.
    I waited,
    waited to dream.

    It wasn't a
    fish tank,
    but an ocean,
    a black
    annihilating
    ocean.

    I saw it's bed
    with weak eyes.
    and plummeted down
    with a zero dream counter.
    Their barcode worked.
    My breaths touched zilch
    for I waited to live only
    after touching the pitch.

    ©kanikachugh

  • kanikachugh 3d

    My boredom doesn't come
    around boring people
    but with
    monoplized ones.


    ©kanikachugh

  • kanikachugh 1w

    Words #song by boyzone
    Something I used to listen a lot in my college days ��
    Brought all the memories back.

    "It's only words
    And words are all I have
    To take your heart away"

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    Words

    There is a certain
    dexterity my diary holds
    of frowning ironies and
    gypsy butterflies.
    With tragic notes like a
    daily reminder from a suffering Sylvia,
    and the harvest of words I reward
    myself of your spring beauty,
    it suffocates and rejoices.

    You don't know even
    half of your beauty
    that resurrects the dead hearts
    and resusciates my old papers
    dying below the weight of
    everlasting winter flakes.
    And my words don't even know
    half of the vocab to describe you
    filling up the boring spaces between us
    by holding the moon in a spoon.

    My tongue lifts to trace
    your essence in some
    literal symbols
    so tender to touch,
    so far away like clouds
    that fills up my sky
    with their moving smiles
    and opaque nature.
    Making me wonder
    if my words will ever be able
    to penetrate you like
    an holy attempt of sunshine.

    Some days,
    my diary holds
    gape(s) and gasp(s)
    and all sorts of drama
    in Gothic style.
    The other days
    It produces a visual
    of you as my new Lord
    waiting to be worshipped.

    I appear, my veil ugly
    the gravity around me, uglier
    knowing you love the outcasts.
    I gaze at you
    with fondness.
    You look at me
    with pitiful eyes.
    But I know, I have words
    And words will
    take your heart away.

    I would have choosen death
    over sympathies, anytime
    but knowing it's you
    I chose to live
    And my mute book,
    to scream your
    appreciation in 26 letters
    to pass on the stories
    to our great-grandchildren
    of how we met,
    Because
    There were only words,
    words were all we had
    to take our hearts away.

    ©kanikachugh

  • kanikachugh 2w

    Autumn (October) is whimsical.
    Decaying in colors and style.
    Making thousand heads turn.
    With a 'my melancholy needs your company' calling.

    ©kanikachugh

  • kanikachugh 2w

    It's raining at 2:30am and so I want to sleep. But my mind....

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    They say 'rain doesn't have any sound of its own'
    When it runs into a surface
    It pitters, patters.
    And we rejoice
    the movement
    of the alpha sound.

    I believe my heart never made a sound before
    But when bumped into fallen personalities
    It shivered, shattered.
    And they rejoiced
    the sharpness
    of an alpha crime.

    ©kanikachugh

  • kanikachugh 2w

    My heart is heavy!!
    Would you take off your load, please.

    ©kanikachugh

  • kanikachugh 2w

    When you start understanding others too much, you lose the leverage of being right.

    ©kanikachugh

  • kanikachugh 2w

    Meh!

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    Comets, my favourite astro objects. Even more personal than a moon and the stars.
    Lonely beings, trying to light up the path behind while they dive into the darkness.
    Probably, trying to find someone as their own, in regular intervals. Incessantly!
    And unfortunately, they just go through hell of a ride to come back home empty handed.

    ©kanikachugh

  • kanikachugh 2w

    You are an art
    whose artist forgot how
    to complete you.
    And you evolve everyday
    in your own colors
    painting murals of your smile
    That makes my heart
    unafraid of the question,
    as to why
    I'm open like a canvas to you
    And your draw yourself on me.

    ©kanikachugh