At dawn, my right arm wakes up

Before me,

Jolting the hand attached to it

Into action,

Frantically hunting for the source

Of noise–

I have broken one cell phone

Like that.

At noon, my feet tend to experience

Tactile hallucinations;

An army of invisible ants marches down

My toes

Bringing the earliest hints of weariness

To life–

I take them out for a walk

Like that.

At dusk, my heart latches itself

Onto memories

Most of them old, insignificant,

Probably untrue

By playing them out like

A record–

I let it be weird and wild

Like that.

At night, my eyelids have a hard time

Staying shut;

My eyeballs too excited to

Stop spinning,

Playing a slideshow of images that don’t

Require projection–

I can sleep with eyes open 

Like that.


“I believe that everyone else my age is an adult whereas I am merely in disguise.”
Margaret Atwood

Featured image by from Pixabay

To be Unglued

For once, I would like

To be a piece of paper

At the mercy

Of the wind,

To stay somewhere

Only for a few seconds,

For I am tired

Of being a tape-person,

Sticking to places

For way too long,

And not leaving

Until I am yellow,

And often not leaving

In spite of that.


“There is nothing more important to true growth than realizing that you are not the voice of the mind – you are the one who hears it.”
Michael A. Singer

Featured image from Pexels

A Mercurial Swing

I watch it blow up

Into smithereens…

The air pregnant

With awkward syllables

From words that exploded

When forced into a rhyme

Without a good reason,

The only justification

For their plight

Being the sudden shift

In the weather outside

That had dressed up a bit

To impress a few hearts

That notice such things,

And maybe the day

Called for it, too,

For only once in a while

You get consumed

By an overwhelming urge

To celebrate those

Who leave lasting imprints

On multitude of souls

With one indelible verse

After another, and only once

In a while (not quite) you end up

Miserably failing at that!


Happy World Poetry Day! ❤

Featured image from Pexels


on an overcast day,

in one clear moment

amid so many ill-defined ones,

something held together

by a makeshift adhesive,

breaks within you for good,

and you cannot see

the world around you

the same way anymore!

afraid of the loneliness

that such an occurrence

begins to whisper into you,

you run screaming into crowds—

finally entitled to your own madness!


“The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”
Maya Angelou

Featured image from Pexels

No Sleep Tonight

Do not look down

On me if I don’t

Manage to sleep tonight,

Let me toss and turn

In peace tonight,

If the book that I

Have brought to bed

With me does not hit

My face tonight,

Do not assume that I

Am deliberately reading

The night away,

And if in the morning

I show up for you

In spite of what is

Happening to me tonight,

Do not dare comment

On my bloodshot eyes,

For a sleepless night

Should not get to define

A person who sleeps

Like a log otherwise.


“What hath night to do with sleep?”
John Milton, Paradise Lost

Featured image from Pexels


I laugh hysterically

At my own madness,

At the audacity

Of a flimsy thought

That had risen

Like a phoenix

From the ashes

Of my archaic ideas

That had caught fire

Without provocation

Many moons ago,

To throw the outside

World into disarray—

It is utterly ridiculous

To be governed by

Your weakest thought

And to make

More sense than before!


“Where does a thought go when it’s forgotten?”
Sigmund Freud

Free image from Pexels


I feel as if

I am not here anymore,

I am but a hole

In the space

That I used to

Occupy before,

And when a part of me

Feels around for

The rest of my being

In the great oblivion,

It finds nothing

To hold on to except

For profound nothingness—

I cannot complain.


“Anything can happen in life, especially nothing.”
Michel Houellebecq

Free image from Pixabay

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