Fickle encounters,

A twitching eyelid—

A keepsake,

A stitch


No accident.

You are a key

In the ignition;

An integral switch.

Not a glitch

In the very thing.

No accident.


Peace can be found

In a loud moment

For all the noise

After some time

Tends to fade away,

As if you

Were on the road

Even when your mind

Was on the railway.


Cobwebbed bulbs

Clear desk drawers

Vacant vases

No apples in a bowl

With a person

As empty as

The house.


“If you board the wrong train, it is no use running along the corridor in the other direction.”

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

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The Considerate You

You say that

You do not care

But it all comes untrue

When you bring

Your head back

From wherever nice

It wanders off to,

To be there for those

Who have never done

The same for you!


“We only have what we give.”
Isabel Allende

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you lounge around,

sunk into the couch

without a care

in the world,

while I am always

wrapped in a silver foil

all set to be baked;

we may have come

from similar soils,

but only one of us

knows what it is like

to live in the heat

of everyday life

only to be dropped

like a hot potato!


“Not everyone can be a truffle. Most of us are potatoes. And a potato is a very good thing to be.”

Massimo Bottura

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Rained Upon

When black ink rains

From the parchment sky,

A mist engulfs the ground,

It stains the unstained raven,

And keeps the mottled brown;

Such downpour can cover up

Strange, little stories

In the old, disowned towns.


“The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.”

Arthur Conan Doyle

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Sadly Similar

We try not to acknowledge

How frighteningly similar we are,

Not because we have the same

Eye colour, length of hair

Or general disdain for anything

That is unlike ourselves out there,

But only because how similar

The lumps in our throats are!

Such resemblance is not only

Hugely unsettling, but it also seems

Exceptionally unfair – to see a person

In the light of their problems,

And to have no solace to offer,

No comfort to spare.”


“I don’t damsel well. Distress, I can do. Damseling? Not so much.”
James Patterson

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I find myself

Drowning in the auburn

Of the morning sky,

And it feels the way

Dry summer heat feels

Against wet skin;

I am disappearing

Into every thing

That stands out

But seems out of place

At the same time,

I know that

Everything tends to

Get worse before it

Eventually gets better,

But I cannot figure out

Where I am right now

In that timeline.


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Dedicated to my hardworking and selfless mother, and to all the mothers like her.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers, motherly sisters, motherly fathers, and to anyone who’s like a mother to someone! 😊❤

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How can we be the same person?

I ask myself that

At least four times a week,

For I have never woken up

With wet sand in my shoes,

I have never fallen asleep

With shoes on my feet,

I have never transitioned

From sleep to wakefulness

Peacefully enough to care

About the state of my feet,

And strangely enough,

I have never been to the beach!


“The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.”
George Carlin

Featured image from Pixabay

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A Free Day

Festivals and holidays are different kind of affairs for introverts. We do not go out of our way to meet people, and the ones who make an effort to see us soon realise that they’d be making us even happier if they’d leave us to our plans. After all, holidays are all about taking it easy and doing what we enjoy.

So with only one day available to pack a good amount of fun into, I have decided to start a book I’d been meaning to read for quite sometime, and watch two movies (from a long list of supposedly great ones).Being a huge Haruki Murakami fan, I had been looking forward to watch, Drive My Car, but I couldn’t find it on the streaming service. The Power of the Dog and The Lost Daughter are the ones I shall be watching instead. I have read good things about them.

Previously skeptical, I have now wramed up to the idea of reading along with the audio narration and Audible has been great so far. I hope that Catch-22 will be an incredible experience. There’s no way I’d be able to finish it in a day though.😁

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It is a little weird if you are your own muse, isn’t it? Especially if you are a critic and an idealist at heart. How does that even work? Interesting things can come out of it though. If I try to take stock of everything that I have ever written, this one poem stands out the most to me. I seem to forget almost everything that I put down on paper, but this poem is an exception. Its imagery often frequents my head and maybe that is why I never have any trouble recalling it. I hope that I shall be able to pen a happy sequel to it one day, and the new image shall stick around instead.

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It never was

What it could

Have been,

A burnt record

With charred dreams,

Singed memories,

And scorched screams;

Can tormented people

Break away

From the grand scheme

Of things that

Are usually not

What they seem

To be?


“You can’t be careful on a skateboard.”

Stephen King

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Blackout Poetry – IV

I’m overwhelmed;

Every movement

A form of sleep,


Some infinite being,

All of this

Invisible, all, in fact,



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It may not be right

to live life

with one foot out

of the door,

but at least we are not

entirely missing out.


it still takes courage

to leave

through open doors,

because the things

that actually

hold us back

are more abstract

than that.


she told me that

it was alright

to ignore every single

knock on the door

as long as you are sure

that there is not

a single door

you would want to

knock on one day!


“You don’t pass or fail at being a person, dear.”
Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

Featured image from Pexels

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The calendar has holes

Where the months

Are supposed to be,

And it feels like one

Big day ever since

This year began,

Or maybe the last year

Never came to an end.

Daylight and darkness fight

For the negative space,

And there seems to be

No other choice

But to calmly embrace

The sensory overload.

A moth is no match

For the hurricane,

But there are some voids

That you cannot

Avoid falling into.


“It is sometimes an appropriate response to reality to go insane.”
Philip K. Dick, VALIS

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Every year

So many feelings

Are spring-cleaned out

Of the house.

At least they get

To leave.


He sat out

The spring season

To recuperate

From the Fall.


The joy takes

Forever to spring out

Of a heart that beats

In sync with

The melancholy,

But when it does,

There’s nothing

Quite like it.


She might have been

Limping through her life,

But she still believes

That some day

She shall walk

With a spring in her step.


“In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.”
Margaret Atwood, Bluebeard’s Egg

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We are scared to share

As if coming apart

In front of someone

Who means the world

To us can somehow

Put a curse on everything

Remotely held together

In our scattered selves,

And then wonder why we

Explode the way we do;

There is great solemnity

In being vulnerable

At times, but a lifetime

Is not enough to learn

How to open up

Without inflicting pain

And getting hurt!


“Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable.

Fred Rogers

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Out of Order

it makes sense

as long as every part

of you feels here

and pushes you through,

but when some part

of you despairs,

and pulls out

one worn out chair

to sit for hours

at a stretch and stare

at something that is

not quite there,

your entire being

then wants to share

in that one part’s

resolve to rue!


Image by Lucija Rasonja from Pixabay

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I see you writing

Me into your poems

And I have never felt

This seen before;

Maybe all we need

Is to be welcomed

Into places we wish

To be a part of!


I see you writing

Me out of your poems

And I have never felt

This heard before;

Maybe all we needed

Was to be taken out

Of places we did not

Want to be a part of!


“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that’s all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild.”

Stephen King

Featured image from Pexels

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No Respite

You wake up

And so does the monster

Under your bed,

And so does the sceptic

Inside your head,

And comes alive the feeling

Of obscure dread.

You fall asleep,

But awake is the monster

Under your bed,

Awake lies the sceptic

Inside your head,

And wide awake is the feeling

Of now penetrable dread.


“Each person deserves a day away in which no problems are confronted, no solutions searched for.”
Maya Angelou, Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now

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Two gaping whirlpools

In one puddle of a face

Gazing through a wet film

Into an aquatic abyss

Since countless damp days

And many a water years,

Count rainfalls, sleet,

Snow and hailstorms,

But somehow remain

Soakingly unaware of

A swiftly advancing drought

That could arrive with

A promise to set them free

From the shackles of

Long-drawn-out precipitation!


The truth will set you free. But not until it is finished with you.”

David Foster Wallace

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I am trying

Not to be seen

For in this moment

I feel too small;

I see him draped

In a raven shawl,

Effortlessly being one

With the night sky,

But I, on the contrary,

Feel too out there,

Not blending in

With anything at all!

Should I sleep

Two-thirds of

The year away,

And try once again

In the Fall?


“True humility is not thinking less of yourself; it is thinking of yourself less.”
Rick Warren, The Purpose Driven Life: What on Earth Am I Here for?

Featured image from Pexels

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A Lonely Mind

It must be lonely to live

With astute thoughts floating

Inside your brilliant mind,

But I am too shy to confess

That I cannot understand

Most of the words that pour

Out of your soul, but the tone

Of your voice makes me believe

That there must be something

Quite meaningful and deep

Behind the words you speak,

And most of the times

I am a little scared to

See you talk the way you do

As if all of this time

You had been dying to babble

To your heart’s content,

But were held back only

By the lack of available ears,

For I know that you deserve

A much better pair than mine

Which lead to places

Far beyond the confines of

Two narrow canals in the skull,

To the areas of brain where

Concrete sentences are broken

Down into snippets that make

Perfect sense, and to regions

Where memories are made,

Kept, stored, retrieved,

And remade from time to time—

I wonder if the blank look

In my eyes gives me away,

I wonder how many perplexed

Faces you talk to in a day?

This is unfair, this is not okay!


“I’m a misunderstood genius.”
“What’s misunderstood?”
“Nobody thinks I’m a genius.”
Bill Watterson

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Poles Apart


we do not have a common narrative;

when my world was upside down,

yours was the right way up,

and what was left was not all right!


My every little thought

gets bigger, goes berserk,

and dies.

Your every small gesture

gets noticed, goes places,

and multiplies.

My every sombre word

gets mumbled, goes awry,

and dies.

Your every feeble idea

gets better, goes viral,

and multiplies.


I apologise

For apologising

All the time;

You apologise

For me not

Apologising enough.


“Little Alice fell down the hole, bumped her head and bruised her soul.”
Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

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Red Roses, Blue Violets and You

When I was a little girl,

I had wanted to be just like you

But then I was told that

Not all the red roses were red,

And that most of the violets

Were purple, not blue;

I had foolishly concluded

That everything about you

Might not be worth

Following through with,

But I secretly knew

That if I had come closer

To being like you,

I would have discovered

The sugar to be

Less sweet than you!


“. . . Atticus, he was real nice. . . .” His hands were under my chin, pulling up the cover, tucking it around me. “Most people are, Scout, when you finally see them.”

Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird

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I hope I’d be able to compose a proper concrete poem some day, but until then, I shall keep having fun experimenting.😊

The concrete poem in the image:

scattered words

if arranged

in a neat, little pile

can fall

off the page


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On Hiatus

I wish I could

Take a break

From myself,

Hit snooze,

Put my thoughts

On mute

For a short while;

Be awake,

But not move an inch,

As if lost

In a dream

Too wild,

Nothing rings

On the other end

When I dial,

My mailbox

Gets no note

From me,

And all the things

That I keep aside

In a pile,

Stay there,

And do not fall over;

I wish I had

An on/off switch

With a tiny, red light

Above it,

So if I ever

Go out like that

Someone out there

Could bring me back.


We were all lost and okay with not being found for a while.”
Adam Silvera

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I am walking
As if I am
A little too fond
Of gravity,
With my arms
Shaking and going
Numb under
The weight
Of everything
I am supposed
To memorise,
And my shoulders
Aching beneath
The ugly straps
Of a heavy bag,
Housing a
Huge, discontinued
From the market,
Shabby laptop,
Yet not spacious
Enough to hold
The books
In my arms,
So when a tiny
Pencil that I
Use as a bookmark,
Falls out of
One of the books,
And someone
Not too far away
Informs me about it,
My mind completely
Falls apart!
I bend down,
Slowly and with
A great difficulty,
To pick it up,
And begrudgingly
Thank the stranger
Who had ensured
That I would not
Even try to ignore
The soft thud of
A pencil that small—
He reminds me
Of the way
This world works…
We carry our weight,
All on our own,
Holding on to it
Lest we lose
Our way;
Forced to carry
All of it,
And not allowed
A chance to drop
Any of it off,
Not allowed
A chance
To be a little lost.


“You remember too much,
my mother said to me recently.
Why hold onto all that? And I said,
Where can I put it down?”
Anne Carson

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Why should I run away

From things that can

Never outrun me anyway?

It will neither make

It a race, nor will it

Make me a runner.

I would rather stay stuck

In a pavilion

With my non-athletic heart

Which can put to shame

A marathon drummer!


“I feel sorry for anyone who is in a place where he feels strange and stupid.”
Lois Lowry, The Giver

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Patched Up

I feel as if the universe

Is trying to reassemble me;

Every morning it takes

The weariness out of my bones

And puts it into words

I dare not say aloud,

My appetite for things

I am not supposed to eat

Is being satiated by

Everything that ends up

Consuming me instead,

My life is ever so slightly

Being infused with a hint

Of healthy indifference,

And I believe that

It is more than what I

Could have asked for.

It is not easy to

Put your broken self together

If the universe decides

Not to be on your side!


Get busy living or get busy dying.”

Stephen King

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I prove myself wrong

By being wrong about

How wrong everything

Actually is;

What is wrong with me?


I walk away from myself

And walk right into

What I had walked

Out of;

I need to walk it off.


I see you crying

Over someone crying

Over someone other

Than you;

I cry at the absurdity of it!


“People who didn’t need people needed people around to know that they were the kind of people who didn’t need people.”
Terry Pratchett

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Time stands perfectly still

And it looks the way

Fine dust looks sometimes;

Dispersed in the rays

Of sunlight sneaking

Into a dimly lit room

Through a slit between

Two long, dark curtains;

You are the only one

In motion, unbothered by

The theatricality of everything

That stands transfixed

Around you, as if

You already know how to

Turn these quiet,

Suspended moments into

Life-size stretches of time!


“Time is the longest distance between two places.”
Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie

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For someone else’s yellows,

I barter my usual blues,

My head has no trouble falling

For this subtle subterfuge.


I sleep my way out

Of my problems,

But my poor problems

Never get to sleep.


If what you chase

Starts to run

Towards you

For a change,

Would you then

Run into it,

Or would it

Run over you?


Do you know

What rhymes

With orange?


You can rhyme


With yourself,

And still be called

A poem, albeit,

A whimsical one!


There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact.”

Arthur Conan Doyle

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sometimes there is nothing

that I like to do more

than to sit cross-legged

on the cold floor

in an attempt to be free,

in an effort to ignore

everything that is always

on the other side of the door,

everything that I shouldn’t

let besmirch me anymore,

so that when I stand back up,

I can feel taller than before.


I am on Instagram now as _aaysid. Looking forward to read more from fellow bloggers (who seem more like pen friends to me now) on that platform as well.😊

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Strangely Familiar

I am afraid that I

might be forgetting

what you had looked liked;

the colour of your hair,

the bounce in your step,

a hint of quietude

in your voice,

are just a few features

that I have to try

very hard to recall,

and last night,

I slept with a fear

that I would not recognize

the version of you

that appears in some

of my lucid dreams,

and a few memories

that I have of you

are losing substance

as quickly as any

of my unprocessed thoughts;

in spite of all that,

I have no trouble

recollecting how generous

was your gentle heart

and how wise were

all of your words,

so I keep conjuring

you up from

all that you were,

and all that I

can no longer recall,

and you always

seem strangely familiar!


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My solemn internal monologue

Is gradually morphing

Into feeble stand-up comedy,

And my rational thoughts

Do not know how to duck yet!


“Never miss a good chance to shut up.”
Will Rogers

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

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we are the pink

in the black of the night,

a faint whisper

in the ear-splitting noise,

a whole paragraph

squeezed in a single line,

the evening primroses

in the sunflower fields,

a paper napkin

not folded, left misaligned;

are we the folks

ahead of our time?


“Where’s your will to be weird?”
Jim Morrison

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The Rebels

Deep down, you wish

To become a person

Who no longer

Stifles screams and lets them

Rush out of a thin

Slit between thick vocal cords

That have grown used to

A life of staying shut;

You wish to rebel

Only to see where

It takes you to

And what it does

To those who have been

Watching you struggle

Foolishly all this time;

You wait for a rebirth,

Because a lifetime

Is not enough to try things

That could tear

The very fabric you have

Been weaved into,

So all you can do

Is steadily slip out,

One little thread at a time;

It might create a ripple

Large enough to topple

At least a few things over.


“If ever it’s necessary to ride the bandwagon, it’s done with one leg swinging out and eyes scoping the fields.”
Criss Jami, Killosophy

Photo by RODNAE Productions from Pexels

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The Special Senses

I listen less

to colourlessness,

so that I can see

the world in melody,

and smell the perfect

balance of the universe,

which surprisingly

tastes like bliss!


Photo by Laziii Codar from Pexels

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You are at a point in time

Where a small change

In the way the day unfolds

Is enough to unravel you;

When the mere sight

Of glistening post-rain roads

Cracks you open,

And you come apart

As soon as you catch

A whiff of damp seclusion,

Way before your brain

Can process the earthy

Fragrance of it to solidify

The old memory traces,

And when the fragmented

Clouds above your head

Refuse to let the sun

Burn its brilliance upon

Your clouded retinas,

Your repose falls to pieces—

You are your own weather.


It rained here today, and I had listened to a breathtaking short story by James Joyce (hence, the quote) during my lunch break. The latter event was the highlight of the day.

“He lived a little distance from his body, regarding his own acts with doubtful sideglances.”

A Painful Case, James Joyce

Featured image from Pixabay

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(Un)wise Advice

You cannot go back

To where you

Have come from,

For it might take

Way too long,

And might even

Prove you wrong;

In a party for one

You should not bring

Your thoughts along,

Even with a mind

That has withdrawn

Into itself, you

Can still claim

Your right to belong-

What you cannot

Say out loud,

You should not

Put in your song!


“I’ll take crazy over stupid any day.”

Joss Whedon

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The Knocks

some knocks at the door

go unanswered

for some doors

do not have peepholes;

some knocks at the door

get answered,

but some doors

do not have doorknobs.


“A knock on the door you hear, a knock on your head you don’t.”

Dixie Waters

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A Recap

It has been another foggy year, and apart from a few vivid moments, I cannot recall much. I am thankful for that, though. Why would I want to be haunted by the memory of everything?

I do not have time to make the “Best of…” lists this time around, and I am not quite sure if I have enough items to list anyway. As always, I am grateful for good health, family, friends, and being able to earn a living. I hope and pray that everyone gets to have these things in life, and a lot more.

For people like me, who can express themselves better on paper, this platform has been a blessing. I am happy to have met and befriend the kind people here, and I am grateful to have an opportunity to not only read good things and look at lovely photos but also to learn passively. May the artist in all of you always have the right canvas and a kind audience!

To recap what I have done here this year, I have chosen the titles of some of my most viewed posts to compose a poem:

I thought we were galaxies apart,

Oblivious to the knocks

On our estranged hearts,

Contentedly lost and held back

By our false sense of integrity,

Out cold and out of order,

Arithmetically unsound

And drunk on the idea

Of escapism; sleepy-eyed,

We let a thought spiral

Deepen the dissociation we felt,

But we were not alone

In being conflicted about

Embracing the other normal,

Small and restricted,

With a hint of evanescence,

And a little wistfulness,

We were getting there,

Building a home in the skies

We are right here!


Thank you for being here. Have a great new year!😊

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Never Again

I wish

There was a way

To cut through

Some things,

Skip through

Some things,

Unlive through

Some things,

And most of all,

A way to

Never have to

Go through

Some things

Ever again!


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the things that you see

in your daymares are even worse

than the ones

in your nightmares at times,

if not outrightly

then in the grand scheme of things.

beaded scarves, raindrop earrings,

and stiletto heels that look

regal in the silver moonlight;

I am scared of anything

that costs more than I make,

I am terrified of anything

that can outlast me.


Photo by Miguel Á. Padriñán from Pexels

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As the years

Turn to dust,

The folded scraps

Of yellowing paper

Safely tucked away

In the pockets

Of worn-out coats,

Missing a button or two,

Become fewer

And farther between,

Until no memory

Of discrete moments

Can be retrieved

Without being consumed

By the history

Of almost everything!


“With each passing moment I’m becoming part of the past. There is no future for me, just the past steadily accumulating.”

Haruki Murakami

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Not every house

Can have a fireplace,

But every home

Has at least a few

Photographs from before

To huddle around,

And that snugness

Might make up for

The missing heat,

And might be

Just as sweet.


“I have learned that to be with those I like is enough.”
Walt Whitman

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Bottled Up

just like a ship

that you reassemble

inside a bottle

surrenders to fate

and cares for seas

no more,

I allow myself

to hallucinate

a little bit more,

forgetting that

anything bottled up

may stay away

for ages,

but one day

it might wash ashore,

but somethings

cannot be rebuilt,

especially the ones

you do not ask for.


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How can you feel like water

If nothing flows right for you,

And how can you feel grounded

If the earth decides to befriend

Everyone except your dog-tired feet,

And how can you keep burning

If the fire in you keeps losing flame,

And when the wind is incessantly

Being knocked out of you,

How can you be in your element?


“The more you know who you are, and what you want, the less you let things upset you.”
Stephanie Perkins

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A Break

This year has been a blur and it feels as if all I have done is live from one break to the next. I find myself unable to recall what I had been taking a break from most of the times. It had felt good to dissociate nonetheless. I think.

Tonight, I am taking a break from taking too many breaks by taking yet another break. It involves me, a book (which I am co-reading with a stranger; he reads aloud while I read quietly, otherwise known as an audiobook), and some loose granola with chocolate chunks in it (got to keep things interesting). Have a great Saturday everyone!

*The featured image has been captured by me.

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