As the hourglass flips,

The world swirls before me just like the sand in the glass.

I hear the door close behind me and I know now what was going to happen.

I feel my heartbeat growing louder in my fingertips and my body shudder.I don't know what this is, but I know there is something terribly wrong with me for sure.

I can hear the silence speaking to me.

Endless noises screaming around me and in my head telling me , you are going to die. Telling me you are pointless. Telling me you are careless, world hates you. Telling me you are not needed

So,DIE.

Choking on my breath, I feel my room whirl around me. The wind rattles the dream catcher in my room and its chimes reverberate the entire house except me.

All I think is what if you see a black shadow in corner of room? What if you hallucinate? I know this is not true but what if? You are biologically predisposed of a mental illness and no one is saving you from that!! What if they call you crazy? What if they isolate you?

What if you die?

You should die.

Shiver creeps down my spine as static in my ears grows louder and louder.

Curling into myself, i tell my mind SHUT UP!!

It doesn't.

And then I hear footsteps coming closer

and closer.The door opens and everyone's home. I don't feel it anymore but I know it will be back haunting me again when I'm alone.

I hope it doesn't kill me.

I hope it just stops.

Circus of the polity

Rhapsody of miracles

Collage of the colourful lies

The masses watch this democratic dance

As the temperature rises in the summer sky.

Circus of the polity

Series of fabricated promises

Painted on posters

Shouted on speakers

Blurted by media

Financed by mafia

And applauded by the audience

Willingly or not; who cares?

Circus of the polity

Culture of irony

Where truth is silenced by bag of notes or at gun point

Hypothetical progress grins at the flashy statistics and bar graphs

And votes are awaited to be swallowed

By political stalwarts

Who speak in black and white

But practice otherwise.

Circus of the polity

A contest of corrupts

Democracy to the contrary

Where the liberal tiger winces

At the whip of multiple ringmasters

It jumps inside out of the burning ring of corrupt metal wire.

Burns itself all the time.

No one sees the wounds

But yes, we, the audience clap and cheer.

Circus of the polity

Powerplay of the shallow

Where the sincere will is butchered.

Systematically and silently.

Where magnificence is perpetuated

Through speechs and statues,

What I think this is nothing but a deceptive hoax.

A political paradox,

Where fair faced picture is chaos behind the scenes.

However it doesn’t end here,

Even with the ruler on the throne.

The tug of war continues

With yet another game of thrones,

With an occasional forecast of star wars

And an undecided outcome

An uncertain endgame.

A metaphorically resonant place,

An escape from reality.

A kind of place I wish to be where there are silver bridges and golden skies, blue moon and butterflies.

A place where broken glass and words aren't abandoned away but are put together in a picture frame.

A metaphorically resonant place,

A kind of place I wish to be.

Where silences greet and glances meet and happy moments can always be re-lived.

A place like this where starcrossed lovers meet and stand beneath the stars watching the tangents meet.

A metaphorically resonant place.

Where the little things matter.

where diamonds are wonders after suffering and pearls are all about untold mysteries.

A place like this I wish to be where fog and the rivers meet,

where daisies and carnations you gave me never wilt.

A metaphorically resonant place.

Where fairytales come true.

A kind of place I wish to be where golden flecks of your eyes take me to the labyrinthine untold and unspoken words finally unfold.

A metaphorically resonant place.

I wonder if it really exists but I am sure it will be a perfect place for you and me.

Fallen angels never rise,

They drown deeper and deeper into abyss unknown.

In the dusted dumpster with undifferentiated horizons.

Encircled with flames; hot and slithering.

They scream as they watch their wings burn into white flames,

Leaving behind deary dark feathers haphazardly wretched to their skins.

Their halo shatters and breaks apart into horns,

And their eyes fill with poison which taints their pearly eyes black.

They scream.

They shout.

They cry bloody tears as poison fills their veins.

Also because they know they will never rise again.

For their sins made them fall,

They’d also set them free,

From the land of honeyed lies

And impenetrable sea.

Now they shall seek revenge.

They scribble on the glass gates of heaven,

ERCHOMAI.

We are coming.

I find myself doodling flowers on the tips of dried branches that cut the sky into million pieces,

Trying to be thankful for the forgone memories of your existence,

But then I fall and weep for the loss you from my life more than being grateful for what you gave me.

I feel those sharp tips of branches piercing their needles into my fingers, As I draw the flowers upon them spilling my blood upon the pieces I left unwritten,

And things I left unnoticed.

My mind wants to hold upon you and your memories even when I don’t.

Sometimes I wonder if my mind was

ever me or unforgetten pieces of you.

Even when the daisies you gifted me wilted long back but I find myself longing for their fragrance or maybe their forgotten touch.

So I read. Read all those books which we read together again. And again and again.

Hoping

Maybe I will find you somewhere in between those pages,

In some underlined quote or a highlighted word or maybe in a sentence I left unread because I was bored.

I try and I read.

Sitting on my bed surrounded by all my books

I stare blankly into the vast expanse of starless sky as moonbeam mixed with smog settled upon the city.

I realise that maybe the stars,

I thought were ours never dissolved in the galaxies of my wine glass and kept floating on the top not wanting me to drink it being afraid that I might choke and let them whirl into the confinement of the glass.

And now that you are gone,

Along the lines of the wind,

I realise that I can’t run into you like before as you are far away from the periphery of my vision.

But maybe, my words would still reach you and catch you by your breath

And I hope you realise that at a point on the infinity where the two curves crossed I waited for you.

Maybe a little longer.