Tag: fiction

Cassettes and wine!

  You were that lazy sip of wine under the beaming silver of falling stars. You would swirl on my skin, tingle my tongue and tease my throat till my lips would break into a dimming smile and my eyes would spill love.⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣My fingers traced… they traced the chiseled edges of your jaw just like they run over the cracked hem of my wine … Read More Cassettes and wine!

Bone china

These days, I find myself swooning over lazy afternoon naps. I may have found a strange solace in the cruel lucidity of my dreams. Well, it’s strange how sleep is my refuge in ‘our’ memories, away from the worn relics. So, this afternoon, after I was done meandering in my beautiful dreams, I woke up… I woke up to the taste of honey, dancing … Read More Bone china

Dear ‘home’

We live in a lost world. We are wanderers, miserable vagabonds! We feed on anger and breathe out fires, then cry at the sight of burnt cities and homeless hearts. We gulp tears and our eyes bleed, then we frown at the sight of spilled gore. We smoke ashes, bathe in swamps, wear mere shreds of envy and then flaunt our prides. Such is … Read More Dear ‘home’

Abyss

Have you ever stared down the demonic depths of a dingy abyss? Or Have you ever felt that sudden urge to resign…when those dark eyes of lucid heights call you? If not… then allow my words, To take you, Through the tranquilizing horror, And the anxiety-ridden silence, Of that moment. That moment when life knocks you down, You hit your head on the cold … Read More Abyss

Dawn

The night smothered you, With the smoke that rose above, The burnt remains Of your tender heart. Now… Now, your lungs ache, Your guts lie, Tied in knots, Churning, Wringing your life out of you. Coiled like a foetus, Drenched in tears, Is that you? Who carved these scars Deep… in the tenders of your skin. Is that a memoir To your unworthy sin? … Read More Dawn

Ghosts…

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Yeah… They live in my closet, And yours too, Don’t they?   There are nights, when I wake up, Lying in this pool of sweat, Or… is that blood? I never chose to know…   Those eerie nights, I hear then growl, Or… is that, their kind of a scream? I never chose to know..   They must stare … Read More Ghosts…

Folly…

Deep… Deep down in my heart; Buried in my soul; Are the truths to my lies…   Lies… Those lies which I hurl; Hurl at the world, When folks try to sneak in, Through my lamenting eyes; Seeking the way to my vulnerable heart…   Vulnerabilities… They are an enigma, aren’t they?   In this world, we conspire… Force people to bare their fragility; … Read More Folly…

Masquerade

Studded with gems, crafted with gold. A lustre so bright… the moon held an intent to conspire the world against it. A smile so kind… the ink stopped bleeding praises for a mother’s heart. Eyes so deep… no man could quieten his curiosity to explore the mystic realm behind. No sculptor’s hands would have dreamt of carving a nose so sharp. The brow screamed … Read More Masquerade

That book…

That rugged and withered wooden door…it stood in front of me as it greeted my somber mask… A mask, my soul wore with pride. My hand reached out for the door knob and rested at it for a while. I stared at my hand….with eyes hollow enough to engulf the world around me. Paying my due respects to the time I wasted for this … Read More That book…

The sinners…

The thunder is the sinner… It sins to defy the clouds. It roars for the agony, yells curses at the gloom. And oh! How the world gasps at the sight of that war! Those tiny drops of water… the ones to abandon the magnificence of the heavens… the ones to fall on the loathed and barren fields. They will be cursed for their compassion! … Read More The sinners…

The battle…

It was a dark and lonely night. The sky would have been a vision to behold with all the lovely stars, and a bright full moon…. if…. only if, it wasn’t bequeathed with an awning of heavy storm-ridden clouds. The air was taught… It prophesied a demonic storm. There I was, beside the lake… kneeling down. My arm bled…body covered in scars and bruises. … Read More The battle…

Beauty…

These roads, they have never known peace. “Quiet and calm”, no poet dares to gift these words to his lover. Yes…his lover…the fuel to his art… Life. My feet have sores, I walked barefoot for years…but I won’t dare to caress them…for…my rendezvous with this pilgrimage hasn’t borne any fruit yet. Every lonely night, I stare at the stars and think. Aren’t we all … Read More Beauty…