you called me
to let me know
that you were fragmenting,
and I, being someone
who can fall apart
unprompted,
retrieved the sweeping brush
from the pantry
of horrors-
not even an ounce
of sanity
was salvaged
from the brokenness.
©Aaysid
“We die a little every day and by degrees we’re reborn into different men, older men in the same clothes, with the same scars.”
Mark Lawrence
Featured image from Pixabay
We had barely glanced
At the glorious menu,
Before deciding on
A meteor shower,
And to wash it down,
We had ordered
Some fluorescent rain,
But after only a few spoonfuls
We had felt quite full,
For it was more than what
Our subdued lives could contain.
©Aaysid
“There are no uninteresting things, only uninterested people.”
G.K. Chesterton
Featured image from Pexels
the rugged, old desk
in my room
is a proof of a life
lived hunched over it,
and my window
stays jammed
on most days
as if tired of ushering in
the outside life
into this quiet room
that has no choice
but to pretend that
it is a world
of its own,
and my shelves
contain places that I
have broken into,
escpaed from,
and have been
banished from at times,
but they keep
gathering dust
as if this room
is a lot bigger
than all the worlds
they contain within
their glorious pages,
and I am here too,
outgrowing the room,
but just like the desk,
the window, and the books
on the shelves,
I do not leave.
I cannot leave.
©Aaysid
“The secret of a good old age is simply an honorable pact with solitude.”
Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude
Featured image from Pixabay
from living
in the moment,
and being right
in the middle
of it all
to staring
at dried paint
getting drier,
chipping off,
from making
paper boats
when it rained,
and paper planes
when it did not
to never
setting off,
from wanting
to be someone,
to mean something,
to not being
here at all;
we let a heart
believe it is past
its prime,
we let a heart
die way before
its time.
©Aaysid
“These fragments I have shored against my ruins”
T.S. Eliot
Featured image from Pexels
We wait
For small joys
With our backs
To the wall
As we sit out
The Spring season
To recuperate
From the Fall.
©Aaysid
“In everybody’s life there’s a point of no return. And in a very few cases, a point where you can’t go forward anymore. And when we reach that point, all we can do is quietly accept the fact. That’s how we survive.”
Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore
Featured image from Pixabay
There is no way to put down
The crushing weight
Of everything I am forced
To remember,
The sharp images,
Searing fragrances,
And crisp sounds
Play in a loop,
And my mind wanders
At times,
But does not dare
Leave the confines of
Dark, imposing memories,
For it knows
That if I’d will myself
To forget everything,
Everything will forget
Me in a blink as well,
And a mind when empty
Might scream louder
Than when it is being
Weighed down by everything
It remembers!
©Aaysid
“I usually solve problems by letting them devour me.”
Franz Kafka
Featured image from Pixabay
The room around me
Begins to disappear
Ever so slightly,
The warm glow
Of the lamp fuzzes out,
Gets bigger and lighter
And impossible to ignore,
A chair in the corner
Casts a strange shadow
On the floor,
There is a gaping hole
In the wall where
There used to be a door,
And I am not there either,
Outside looking in,
Or inside looking for
What isn’t there anymore—
A mind needs no excuse
To fall apart,
It readily fragments
With the crumbling indoors.
©Aaysid
“That’s what the world is, after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.”
Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
Featured image from Pexels
Outrageously Erratic 