Thursday, 19 July 2018








My eyelids are high,
high as they are stoned.
There is a growing chaos,
fragments from fragments,
Slowing succumbing to this white noise,
My nomadic mind wanders,
through yesterdays and tomorrows.

Is this insomnia,
or a travelogue?




Tuesday, 17 July 2018

Stemming.


Slicing my heart into tiny bits,
And pestling the pieces with blunt edges,
I crushed out its wetness
And fed it to the seed to grow.
The seed grew into a plant
And sung with the beats of my heart.
Its roots grew through my veins,
Almost indistinguishable by then.
Took every bit of air from my lungs,
and the tiny leaves grew one by one,
Into a canopy that could even hide the sun.
The sapling grew in to a gargantuan tree.
Its roots entangled between my bones and nerves
I laid down looking at it,
With a peaceful grin.

And then I declared,

"You are mine and I am yours."