Essential education essentially training you to think. To think only what is allowed to. To think…in line, and learn one sided glory of manipulated events.
Read More15.03.2021
Thoughts on petty complexes that have started birthing from hypocrisy and inhibitions. Death of subjectivity.
Read MoreRecollecting Fortress
In times when memories are collated in a safe place, a fortress of memories.
Read MoreUncertain times
As we face today (2020).
Read MoreA Letter To a Friend →
It has been a quarter of the lives we should live through. A sequence of seamless times, time easy, times rough. Maybe it had it all, from times to mention again and times to be not spoken of again. You’ve been there, you will. I’ve talked about worlds past and will. To being the closest thing to my best friend, you mind stepping those shoes. Why is it that you don’t see this in a new light? My pieces of conflict and complications occur because of you. I know it, I know you, I’ve spoken to you in silence. To have explored landmarks left on the world on big cities. Doesn’t it look exciting? You enjoy being part of memories. Don’t realise how you don’t remain in only one anymore, how you’ve denied yourself to keep distances casual. How long would it be best for us to stay in a bubble of denial. Maybe let’s meet again and revisit ourselves. Maybe this time you realise how you’ve scheduling a memory of you in many moments. There’s always a lot of world to see maybe differently. From someone to someone after endless battles with denials buried, a leap of faith to not let down again. For time has gone, with things happy and unknown, but for a seemless reality now. What if this never fades out?
Fearing freedom
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Every day I live, I fear death
Living the life of purpose with no freedom
I try to join the army among them
It’s a life to live they told me the saviours taught
Have the heart of a giant after you’ve fought
I live, I die, and death not ends it
Here I live every day, I dear death
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Blessed Friend
To welcome a new friend like an old one
Read MoreMind Over Matter
A wait for salvation
Read MoreTenants
What of the world we call our own, it never has been.
Read MoreFaded Emotion
When there’s no reason to, but you have got to
Read MoreForget/Forgive
Do you raise your questions?
Read MoreMiscalculations
When thoughts seem unmatched with reasons, decisions and the conclusions.
Read MoreRiver of Sorrow
A letter seeking permission to go down into sorrow(river)
Read More29 June, 2018
Feelings of warmth and cold
Read MoreWeary Memory
It was one hot summer afternoon in the year full of unrest
Walking in the sun was hard, a walk needed to calm the heavy chest
I had just met someone with a past, dark and full of fumes
Yet she felt like victory, satisfactory, a feeling of melodious tunes
The heat was a distraction from my feelings, felt so fast
The sun was just evilly smiling, for I felt disturbed by her past
She felt ashamed really, of her past so wild and soar
All I could see was her hair fall smoothly, as her feet were trembling on the floor
A gush of wind took me back in time, to a time where I was alone
It was then I felt the need to turn back and walk the mile again, a mile was difficult and long
I was wrong to think that her past was horrid, that I ran, lest I fall
Not two thoughts could make up for the aberrated scene I caused
Spoke about a time that was gone in the past and flames fiery
The flames were out now, clouds flew by and past was memories, memories are now old and weary
Locked Away
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Still remember the good old days in some little ways
How sweating the sun felt refreshed, how gentle were mother’s breasts
It was all yesterday when we used to walk the grassy land, feet in sand
Walked many a mile, here we stand, with Apartments in place trees, car fumes breeze, a boy, young, screams
Terror on face his, all was lost in the mist, felt his pain, he didn’t know rage, knees went weak in his cage
Had a life to live, a father to follow, lost his will, he was hollow
We still believed in the good old days that we remember in little ways
We still remember the confusion back in those days, where it was warm in many ways
A child was lost in the crowd as he did shout
Voice that went further for his age, yet it couldn’t leave his cage
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Coffee in a Whiskey Glass
How one waits for their romance to return, eagerly, sadly, sleeplessly. Their insecurities and thoughts in this patriarchal society.
Read MoreChildhood Promises
Funeral for the child within
Read MoreStory of a killer
An origin story for a character from Jim Morrison's poetry from the song The End
Read MoreTaken Memories
To a place that used to be
Read More