As i sit back on my lawn, letting the grass grow around me, unknowingly gazing at the streetlight ahead which is rather merely glowing, seducing the melancholic darkness; observing people around me, people sedated by monthly salaries;

And I’m swayed to her thoughts again, just like any other moment. An angel i never dreamed of yet dreamt, a girl i never imagined to love;

So how does she turn my heart into a raging beast, pounding and clutching my ribs with every touch?

For i braved to look beyond her skin, scars and bones, to gaze at her soul, which was a bouquet of all beautiful things which humans couldn’t dare to dream of.

She always questioned herself of not being good enough.


She is art,

She is poetry,

She is better.



♪ it was all yellow ♪

looking out through the window, i kept aside my headphones.. the haze outside waiting to smother my favourite book lying across the bed..

suddenly the heart-rending clouds swept in an epiphany, memories swayed like waves of the ocean and a realization creeped in that I’m nothing more than a mere constellation of tragically forgotten truths..a collection of dreams that were consigned to oblivion..

so, i put on my headphones again, remembering all the times my mom told me i deserved the best..

“Devour me”, i closed my eyes and screamed while a coldplay song gradually started healing all the brokenness within..



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it’s astonishing, how sometimes memories are mere scattered papers gasping for a hurricane to be blown away beyond the horizon of emotions..

a few years back, I met you through my laptop screen..stared at your picture with a mouthful of forevers..

never met you then, yet the stars which peeped through the window every night before I fell asleep were enveloped with teenage pipe-dreams safeguarding our little wishful infinity…

now, the memories are still alive yet, somewhere the estranged G-talk icon on my desktop, long forgotten to be logged in..

you may curse our damned generation..but, she was the warmth which kept me alive through the winters of my life..

and maybe, memories are just meant to be consigned to oblivion..



Artwork by Hades and Parsephone

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Half Past Dead

with a ruined mascara she kept sliding fingers across her cellphone screen.. staring at men who failed to love her swept by like tides, one by one..

but I swear, if it were me, I’d shed my skin, my bones, till the very beat of my heart is visible to make you realize how severely I wanted to take the beauty of your soul to my grave..

because, I relentlessly believed that you had madness sprinkled on your bones..but, there was no one daring enough to penetrate into the wilderness..

every night I spent hours to create words that’d let you unearth the hidden magic in you..yet, the amalgamation of ink, paper and cigarette ashes failed to fuel the warmth of your body..

by the time I looked at the clock, it was half past dead..



Artwork by Norvz Austria

A forever draped in smoke

“the magic of love often left her breathless..

drunk in love, she wished the wormhole he took her to would take them to the world of ‘us’..yet, his kisses were cosmic rays waiting to burn her out inch by inch..

and now, you are just a half smoked cigarette tossed onto the ground amidst the chaos of life, gasping for breath..”




how wonderful it is to walk on an estranged street on a cold winter night…

the lights showered happiness..the walkway was paved with love..the only stranger was his shadow walking by, skipping through the dry leaves..

ah! and then amidst the zigzag of alleys came a cul-de-sac..

in that moment, the silence made his bones clutter & he understood that walking through the boiled-down infinity of life was no different than walking on a windy winter night..

the snow lying on the ground was like a quilt begging him to go to sleep..

yes,life is a labyrinth waiting to be escaped..



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Fiction smothered life

she believed that somewhere across the darkness kissed void of the universe lived someone who would brave the cosmic rays just to love her..

she was never stalked by the feeling of absence of a friend as fictional characters flirted with her every night..and,although her room was barely 100 sq. feet,however she found her world inside the old wooden bookshelf which stood in the corner of the dilapidated room,the yellow pages in it were dying yet,it kept her alive..

Yes, like her, each one of us are just an omnibus of the books we have fallen in love with!



Artwork by Fernando Vicente

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