I wish I could return

To sweet oblivion,

To those sweet,

Quiet moments

In which everything

Mattered yet nothing

Quite did,

Where reality treated

You better than

Your recurrent dreams,

And the world

Stood still

Only for you;

Something tells me

I am already there,

Stuck in another

Version of unvarying time,

For no two moments

Of surreal solitude

Can ever be alike.


“He really had been through death, but he had returned because he could not bear the solitude.”

Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

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your thoughts keep opening

subconscious portals

that pull you away

from the world

you consciously share

with others like you,

but you are afraid

that one of these days

you might wander

a little too far

and get lost in there;

even though there are

no maps, no keys

to the doors

you close behind you

when you leave,

you shall still

be rescued by people

like you,

who like you enough

to not let go.


“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.”
Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

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The kind where it

Does not matter

What kind

Of empty you are;

Not sad empty,

Nothing to be

Glad about it


It just is.


This is how

It is supposed

To feel

Every time

There is nothing


To feel.


“On the fifth day, which was a Sunday, it rained very hard. I like it when it rains hard. It sounds like white noise everywhere, which is like silence but not empty.”
Mark Haddon

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A Bonfire

I threw a bonfire one night

just for myself,

but they came anyway

and brought their own fuels

for the raging fire—

I saw a lyric in ashes,

a dour sonnet suspended

in the forbidding smoke,

and when a rhyme went up

in the tiniest of flames,

it left charred sadness behind,

together we had looked up

at the soot-covered sky,

and it felt as if our fires

and fates were entwined!


“Isn’t everyone a part of everyone else?”
Budd Schulberg

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The world outside

Their windows

Weeps for everything

It had lost but they

Got to keep;

They count

Their blessings

Every night,

But they cannot sleep!


“You could’ve tried to be fair. But you didn’t. You don’t even have the right to be sorry.”
Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance

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Love Letters

not making the postscript,

not even the side note,

and almost never

the subject matter,

in spite of that

she spends her life

yearning for days

she would be written

conspicuously into letters,

in which no one else

besides herself

would seem to matter;

she might soon realise

that it is not unwise

if she is the one

who writes herself

those letters!


“Knowing how to be solitary is central to the art of loving.”

Bell Hooks

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Our world

Has always been

Aflood, both literally

And figuratively,

And we drown

In indifference

Every day,

And everyone dies

Because of it

And in spite of it

Either literally

Or figuratively

But I cannot recall

The last tiime

It took this long

For us to see

What we were trying

Not to see,

Were we this dead,

Not literally

But figuratively?


It’s a shame there has to be a tragedy before the best in people will finally shine.

E.A. Bucchianeri

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it never goes away,

the strange feeling

of being anywhere

but where you are

at the moment,

your body separated

from your thoughts–

you can hear

the sound of blood

as it rushes

to your feet,

but they stay rooted

to the spot

you had mentally left

a long time ago;

where do you go

from here,

but more importantly,

how do you come back?


“The best way out is always through.”

Robert Frost

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Out of Sorts

There’s always someone

Sitting on the floor

Looking skyward

Not keeping score,

And it feels weird

To bring an empty cart

Out of a shopping mart,

And have nothing

On your list checked off,

And to drive around

All night on a weekend

With a stomach

Running on nothing

But pure wanderlust;

When life puts you

Out of sorts

You have to do

Whatever you can

To gather your thoughts!


We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

Oscar Wilde

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The Sky People

we have our eyes

on the sky,

at the clear blue of it,

at the sunset, twilight,

and the night of it;

our hearts forever

one rainbow away

from bursting into colours.


“They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.”
Tom Bodett

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do you still lose

even if you win?

an earthworm

worms its way

out of an anthill,

bringing it down

in the process,

the ants may

devour its corpse

one day,

but would that

absolve the worm

of its sin?


“Who you are tomorrow begins with what you do today.”

Tim Fargo

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Isn’t That Write?

Three micropoems:


Tonight I shall write

Like never before,

With my left hand,

And my right brain,

To make even less sense

Than I did before!


How can you hope

To be written into

Someone else’s story

When you are

Unwittngly writing

Yourself out of

Your own little tale?


We used to read

Because we

Could not write;

We would then read,

Because we

Wanted to write;

We read now,

Because we

Write too much!


“One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.”
Jack Kerouac

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it may leave

a little scar, but

we should leave

before the leaves

can leave

the fragile branches

that leave

them feeling a little

frail as well;

we should leave

it at that

before it leaves

us feeling left out

from whatever’s

left of the world

we once thought

would never

leave us alone.


“I don’t want just words. If that’s all you have for me, you’d better go.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald

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No Winners Here

Why do spider-like,

Dark apparitions

Run away scared

Only when you

Decide not to

Run away first?

When both begin

To lose at

A game for two,

It gets layered-

A layer over layer

Of profound inanity,

Until one of you

Breaks down

And loudly declares

That it is foolish

To chase after

Your own nightmares,

That it is foolish

To be chased by

Your own nightmares.


“Strange, I thought, how you can be living your dreams and your nightmares at the very same time.”
Ransom Riggs, Hollow City

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The Afternoon Sun

I know that I

Was not supposed

To wake you up,

But it has been days

Since you last took in

The afternoon sun,

And I have heard

It can make a difference-

Sometimes the things

Which happen between

The first signs of light

And absolute darkness

Are worth waking up for

From a deliberate,

Drawn out slumber!


“There are always loose ends in real life.”
Robert Galbraith, The Silkworm

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the clouds burst

at forlorn places

already soaking wet

because of many

a rivers cried before

the ruthless storms

had even arrived;

how can the eyes turned

skyward remain dry

when the cold,

pelting rain reminds

them of subdued feelings

which can be

buried again only if

cried out along

with the crying sky?


“I woke to the sound of rain.”

Sylvia Plath

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Workplace Woes

It is funny

How little sense

It all makes

When you are bored

Out of your mind,

And you find

Yourself leaving your

Mortal thoughts behind

To embrace the beauty

Of ill-defined,

But it is nothing

Unusual for it happens

All the time…

It seems that we

Hold meetings

Only to waste

Each other’s time.


“I like work: it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours.”
Jerome K. Jerome

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I am afraid that some day

I’d run out of things

to say out loud,

but every time

I begin to speak

I feel like as if

all the words

have been said before,

but I utter them anyway,

and feel bad

afterwards for speaking

against my better judgement;

maybe running out of

words to say out loud

wouldn’t be that

bad after all!


“No matter how far you travel, you can never get away from yourself.”
Haruki Murakami

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Sometimes the nature takes it upon itself to remind people like us that there is a world outside the four walls we have willfully trapped ourselves in.

The monsoon season is in full swing, with all its beauty and horror.

A few photographs from today.


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Quiet? Not quite.

there is no respite even when

the voices begin to fade,

for unsettling whispers

then replace the brutally

honest conversations,

and the incessant noise

in the head woefully remains,

oh, what a shame!


“Don’t gobblefunk around with words.”
Roald Dahl, The BFG

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We blink

The maroon

Hours away,

Wallowing in

Shared disbelief,

Slowly running

Out of

Storage space

By adding

Untruths to

Old memories

Which were

Made when

Things were

Not this blue.


Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.”
Ray Bradbury

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there is nothing worse than

a crisp realisation,

that too, a little too late,

which makes it

a little too unfortunate,

that all of this time

you have been more of

a prison than a prisoner!


“I am afraid. Not of life, or death, or nothingness, but of wasting it as if I had never been.”

Daniel Keyes, Flowers for Algernon

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The Rain People

not all clouds

are born to rain,

but the ones that do

are quite fortunate

for they know what

they are supposed to do;

some people are

like such clouds,

they, too, are born

to rain away—

they know what

they are supposed to do.


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I wonder when exactly

Everything became

An act of:

Packing your bags

And leaving,

Leaving your bags

And leaving,



A smoke machine

Suddenly malfunctions

And black glitter

Shoots out instead;

Another pretty accident

That no one cares about.


I do not want to

End up like

A lone lipstick

In my purse;


In the face

Of utter inutility!


“There are times to stay put, and what you want will come to you, and there are times to go out into the world and find such a thing for yourself.”

Lemony Snicket

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Why do I find myself

Only a single tear away

From fleeing a conversation

I find myself trapped in?

Why cannot I spare for myself

The same amount of kindness

That I seem to have aplenty

For anyone who is not even

On a verge of tears?


“You always say such lovely things to me, Red. Do you say them to yourself?”
Talia Hibbert

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She unseals, unfolds, refolds, and seals again

A letter of long gone joy and outworn pain,

Engulfed in a wave of unprecedented fear,

She hurriedly wipes away a lonesome tear,

For the bygone memories still posed a threat

Like the undealt cards of a misplaced bet!


“We are products of our past, but we don’t have to be prisoners of it.”
Rick Warren

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Sometimes the only way

To break the ice

Is to stage a fight;

To slip and fall all over

The vast expanse

Of time which stands

Frozen beneath your feet,

Inside your ears,

And behind the glazed

Look in your eyes—

We can pretend

That nothing says love

Like shards of ice

Sticking out of a heart

That once was afire!


“But that afternoon he asked himself, with his infinite capacity for illusion, if such pitiless indifference might not be a subterfuge for hiding the torments of love.

Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

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I had a perfect retort,

But I chose

The less traveled road;

Held it all back

And swallowed it whole.

I have a nasty heartburn

Ever since then,

And sharp words

Keep coming back

To injure my throat!


“Everything I think of now is too rude to actually say.”
Craig Ferguson

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False Memory

real time events

are no longer of value

for we are trapped

in a moment

which was never

as lucid as we

recall it to be,

the older we feel

the harder it gets

not to live

in the past

which was not

what it now

seems to be,

which never was

what it could

have been; what

it should have been.


“The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”
L.P. Hartley

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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

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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

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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!


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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

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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?

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