New on my Instagram blog:- "It is easier to lose track of honesty. Standing in the middle of a noisy room, screams echoing, lies lingering above the heads of lousy strangers; eyes meet, but for whatever brief moment they do, they only find excuses to break away. Such rooms are no less than mazes. They…
Down and Under
There's only so much that the eye can see;There's only so much that the flesh can feel;There's only so much-Cloaked and Veiled-They believe the truth is rotting away,They believe they won,that the night won't wake;Down and Under-They hid bits and pieces of prophecies and gospels,turning life into a game of treasure hunt,leaving hints curled around…
Dark Side of the Moon
When I walk, I walk alone; The tenders of my feet caress these rough barren lands each night,and from what I knowmy tears, sometimes, water them; I doubt if they are fond of me,if they appreciate my presence,or, if they can’t stand me, can they? Do they despise watching me invade their previously unwavering abandonment?Do…
Shadows
What is hiding in the shadows?Who is this demon? How have I not crossed paths with it yet? I have been lurking around in this darkness since the dawn of this moonless night.Who is this ghoul that managed to save itself from my quest? Has my search been hasty? Have I missed some corners? I…
Don’t tear the wall down!
You keep a brick at its place, and you stare at it. You stare at it long enough for it to lose its identity for you, for it to simply become a mass of nothing, kept on nothing, for nothing; In that moment, you almost want to smash the whole wall down; the wall that took you…
The Moon
I had sworn. I had sworn I will never write about the Moon. It did. It made me gasp at its beauty each time I looked at it; filled me with endearing wonderment for the silver it spilled; had me looking for a braveheart who had the courage to bring it down for me; I kept…
The Truth
Memories have a strange habit. They fade away… and they do so faster when you don't want them to. Maybe that is why people came into the habit of writing whatever happened around them. Writing was their helpless attempt at trying to hold quicksand. Words lose meaning once they stop carrying stories around… but if…
Sometimes I wonder…
Sometimes I wonder if the leaves have stopped rustling with you not being around. Did you take the wind away or is it just the silence you left behind? Flowers have wilted down, and those standing have lost their charm. Did you crush them under your spiteful steps or is it just the love you…
You will love…
Four walls, a number of bricks, and here you sit in the middle of this room finding solace in your own flesh and love in the mirrors. Mirrors, though, seldom lie. They may lie about a few harsh truths, though ‘lack of love’ stands high on the list. You stand in front of this silvered…
You will heal…
Glass boxes don't sing lore to the warriors of freedom when the skies fall and the waters rise. But, skies don't fall and waters don't rise in vain; they sob in vile. There are a number of things that may conjure disdain into this world, but no other blade yearns to be struck with thunder…
From The Quill 