"And I'll do anythin' you ever dreamed to be complete"
 Comment if you want me to add you. i'd love to get to know you. i love poets, writers, anarchists and in general, all people who love life. i'd love to see the person you really are and not the person the world has made you. i love people who stray out into the wild and believe in themselves no matter how much the world puts them down. people who believe there's more to life than material things and being rich.  i want to fall in love with people who have so much life in them. i want to fall in love with the people who want to change the world.
 

you turned sixteen,
so take a moment to scribble
out the noise
and slip into yourself

remember
to never regret the lonely
days, days you'll spend
against a wall
watching the sky
letting the cigarette smoke
calm you down

or the days
you could spend giving
the finger to the world

take time to heal
yourself
when
boys and girls
break your heart

give yourself
the right to vent,

and a cause
to fight for

because your runaway
plans have fucked up
and we're here to stay

breathe in
breathe out
you'll be okay

 

adrien: im sorry i havent been around much these days. hope you like this sort of birthday thing for you..

some definition of

dyfunctional. i pin

back these days to let them

percolate, spin themselves

into bombs, falling trees,

pooling rainwater

all the things i can't ever

understand

when i'm around you

we skim by rushing trains

come up with reasons

why the people travelling all

need to be somewhere

but it hurts when you

can't remember where you

need to be

where you are wanted

so in the end i take this

as another flicker of  the fire

that will burn me

and i will just smile and tell

you i'm okay

show you my scars

proudly

So my distilled day
sits on pavements,
learning the lines
between our worlds
and the ways the sun
sinks in alternate ways.

shedding, learn the flaw
and love her
whole, like there is

no reason to believe
the boundaries of before

peel exteriors, the circles
of truth emerge like scars.
emancipation,
this is who you really are.

late night shifts, and
we are not ourselves
girls with too many hearts
blue in destruction mode

her smile catching in webbed
light, mangled hope
causes sunshine depression

but this connection is
better-fall in love with
the dying, homeless,
future home wreckers

this is your shadow
in my seven corners
cease to exist,
making a sound to
pull me out of inhibition

redhead, golden dress
want to runaway?

We are in the spells, the handmade
river of promise. We are the shadows
rising against the peeling personalities
of ourselves when no one is around.
When the dark empties into our
veins, we're smiling. Emptying the
shattered glass into the sea and
pretending we don't hurt. That we
haven't been burnt. In the ageing
shade of freedom, we learn how
to stop ourselves from smiling
too much, because we know
how far down we'll f-
-all
we have crawled inside
the sheets, selling ourselves to
fate and he watches you sleep
waiting till you slacken the alert
mode and he stikes. i still dream
of our countries of words, starlit
and humble, under the impression
we are damaging ourselves but
really, we are only breaking and
learning to rise after each fall.

maybe when
we
voted for you
we must have forgotten
to see the motto
of your party-

allow
us to fuck you up

twice over

The stitches of my world have come loose again. Beads of sorrow percolate in my heart and everytime another disaster occers I can barely breathe.

Mumbai has always been hit by some misery every once in awhile. But never has there been a disaster that has collectively stopped our heartbeats for three days, and cut off our oxygen supply. Terrorists entered Bombay by sea, split up and went around the city firing shots at random as they passed by busy streets before they entered the hotels and Nariman house where they held the people in there hostage. death count- 195.

This is the city I was born in. This is the city my parents grew up in. I have walked along the beach passing the Taj hotel and wondering what it would be like on the inside. My parents grew up near the Nariman house. Its been around for ages. My mom as a kid along with her siblings used to dare each other to go into the Oberoi hotel without getting caught. I've eaten at Leopold's the last time I went to Mumbai for holidays.                                                                                                                            But now all these places have fractured our memories and replaced with sadness and anger. I want these bastards caught. Only few of them were caught, most of them shot dead. But the estimate is that there are 40 terrorists.

40? So where are the rest of them? Are they still lurking among my people planning another attack? I sure would like to know. Thats the place I'm going to go next year after high school and I want it safe.

Pakistan is already put to blame. Sure everyone knows theres lot of politics involved. The pakistani government is doing nothing to put the terrorists living so freely in their country behind bars. And who suffers? The rest of the world.

For the first time, we have reason to believe in the police and army forces again. They've fought those bastards properly. India thanks you guys. We salute those who died in combat yesterday.

Although this incident has put us in a frozen state, we will never be defeated. Mumbai will rise on its feet again. We will fill it with our hopes and everyday life again. We will work on replacing memories.

sometimes i was a projection
in a catalogued dream

where the fists of snow
rang excuses through dirty
brown grounds, this

sister of mine fainted in
the swirl of faint remarks the

silence of the ground erases
the color of dreams from
searchlights of holocausts

the girl in my mind cried
with shredded limbs

fuck, because i was only
dying too soon with her
bitter pearl of
shame in my
mouth, the sky alight
with a thousand
excuses to die.

We want out from sinister things. A backdrop of hurt breaking away from the sky blue. My ears have crossed boundaries. The silence waits. Silence is needing you but you’re not here. A map to dream on. The trees do not stir. They’ve learnt to sleep through all the shit humans have put them through. There is a definite world in my body. My veins have cried enough. They don’t tell you that being a teenager means being confused, being torn apart by options. The angst comes as the afterglow, the death recurring every time the gun fires. The teenager who exploded his head after he had killed the others realizing they felt the same pain too. Who has the answers clearly imprinted on the skins of their palm? I’ll seek them out. If you’re at peace with yourself, put your hands up. A country of dead hope, there is no vindication in our smiles. I’m sorry but after the huge impact of the first sorrow, the remaining line of sadness follow in an overbearing pattern.

i am told
love is sure limbed- that
it creates the confidence
through eyes and hands
overriding the soft waves
of smiles and perfume
on her red red
dress.
sugar girl, candy mouth,
swirls tattoos in his mouth,
How her mascara jumps at the
world! between the borders
of the world too small for the
dreams she wants to blush into
reality, she finds the milk spill
in the kitchen, the blue dress on
her bed, and her baby photographs
too important. says, i don't want
to forget any detail. every detail
should cling to you like wet
clothes
refusing to lean away into the
breeze. creases-she hates how they
tell her she is the weaker sex on sunny
blue afternoons, how night empties into
day and the day weakens into the night,
how monotonous bank jobs sound, and
how small the world seems to her
boyfriend. he sees too little, likes only
the curves in her, and other girls she
may never know of but still sure they
exist.
all these worlds percolate in her, sounds of
sober car crashes and her own
smile
sinking into a deep ridge away
from prying eyes.