Rent-free

22/07/2012, Sunday

Standing on the terrace

of the rented house, I’ve been allowed,

I stare at the darkness

oozing out of my

peerless neighbourhood houses.

The valedictorians spent

their time building their Rome,

almost there,

just shy of a home.

The wind picks up,

dust begins to blind me,

pushing me towards

the pun intended and truanted origin I began from.

A place that I could call a home,

with no moorings to build a Rome.

Along with her, I wish I went,

to a place

where they don’t charge the rent.

I don't know what 've I written and why 've I done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts. I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ??.. I never did.. and I still don't..

The start..

7/2/2012, Tuesday

Some hard bound moments ago,
thinking I was home and dry,
I left my placid faith cold,
on a paralyzed piece of wood.

I galloped into
a world of overgrown affectations,
a world of metaphors and similes,
a world trying to pare away,
the uncertainty from tomorrows,
a world draped in
the naked shades
of circumscribed salvation,
a self professing happy world of
ritualized incarnations,
a world of knifes and forks,
rutted by the ebb and flow of the clocks.

For once, one day, I returned,
to the comfort of
my warm four-walls,
to pick my, now paralyzed, faith,
and kept it in my pocket,
close to the beatings of my heart,
trying to revive it,
trying to go back to the start..


I don't know what 've I written and why 've I done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts. I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? .. I never did.. and I still don't..

One last time..

29/1/2012, Sunday

Gingerly forced into it,
by obscene temporal conjunctions,
I went to her again..

On a chilly winter night,
life knocked at my doors,
she kissed me wild,
she took me high,
her teeth dug into my neck,
and her nails made staircase
impressions in my flesh.
She wrote me down
with her brute ire,
into the annals of nothingness.

Gingerly forced into it,
by obscene temporal conjunctions,
I went to her again..



I don't know what 've I written and why 've I done that. I don't know if anyone can ever interconnect my sporadic thoughts. I don't know if someone will ever try to. But do i care ?? .. I never did.. and I still don't..