Skies

The gentle sting of the outside rain; a silent hymn,
lush lullaby, imparted by this our sky: Infinite and
encircling, shared heaven.

Porcelina of the ocean blue

The locus of all things tangile are shimmering.And in the earthly nights,I touch stones with my naked fingers.The chill of the fog-wetness on the smoothness of the stones permeates my bones.And she rips open my ribcage,moving into my heart.A porcelain statue,wearing an emrald necklace,she is the angel of all things darkly beautiful.White in her purity,the darkness around her eyes seem unreal.A gothic eyemakeup?.But it's real.As real as the crystal mirrors on the heartcaves.The ocean-flower blossoms and sleeps again.A fragilty which can't bear reality too much,even underwater reality.A transient reality,like the smell of incense.Nah,not the smell but the hint of a smell in the smoke.It moist my eyes and the lovely smile almost breaks my heart.A small crack,which makes the heart look all the more vulnerable but all the more beautiful.It's time to dive naked into happiness.Drenched in the dewdrops of happiness,a mind is born.A parallel mind.Two rail tracks,parallel and moving to some unending destination.I shall rest when the journey is over.I'll sleep like a baby.In a canpoy of sweet lullabys,I'll sleep until the world ends.And then I'll love the taste of this earth.

Echoes of carelessness

This is something which i wrote when I didn't take my meds for a day.It makes no real sense and my writing was all scribbly.I am at horrors at the dependence we have on medicines.Sometimes it seems easy to throw the towel.But oh well,just another med and I'm okay.



and why should I even care?

The whole ridiculous motion of universe has its own trajectory.Motionless are the drops in the crystal glass of lifetime.Why do I let these teardrops collect?Maybe blooddrops.And the scars of a sharp pain remain.It's a disgust to contemplate the banal motion of universe,but it's less boring than feeling the weight of one's eyelids and wondering why a skin tissue might someday feel so heavy.A cotton-soggy heaviness.A wet heaviness.

but why should I care?

Period.

I will

The Sound of Eyes

Our eyes will spill the secrets of our strength,
reflected and viewed only in the eyes of our 'other'.

Each other.

Our love only ever momentarily wilting in the shade,
until the sun of those open eyes shines again.

Crime

There must be a point there besides the open window where freedom lies.It glides and sithers into turmoil. A slippery road.I've fallen many times I know. From the vantage point I deliberate and let the sun drip it's dark shadow.Drop by drop. And I drink it.Open mouthed. Like a newborn sucking the milk of numbness. There are so many windows and so many roads,beyond. And I'd gladly walk If the shade of love canopies over me. Alas! I ask too much. Love conspires with the sun many a times.And leave sunspots. Ugly and unmaskable. And still in the moonlight of lonliness. I look at them lovingly.My children. They,of untamed joy and serene happiness.A constant reminder of my crime. I killed 'em. They were newborn.