Fears of Falling In Love

The fears of falling in love are many 

I can't Google my signs and symptoms 

Even if I do, I'm sure it'll end up in my demise 

But like a cold, I fear seeing the symptoms 

So when the voice in my head sings about eyes flashing like highway signs in a hotel room, 

all I think about is you looking at me 

And my heart is mine no more 

It is running around like crazy 

In my own chest as if it's his personal racing track

Because I realise the consequences of these subconscious actions 

This has never ended well and I don't know if it ever will 

The uncertainty makes me sick

I still have to pack my bags and go back to dwellings 

I don't have a home anymore 

No place and no one to call home 

I'm quite homeless 

Home is where the heart is 

But it's pinned to wall and it's draining the white from it

Layered with red like a Velvet sponge cake 

the wall stands like your achievements in an unlikely life 

Who would've thought

Ground Zero

And the people that spent all their lives living under the earth
prayed to the ground above them.
They prayed for more worms to fall thorough these gateways
never daring to go up
they told stories form when we used to live up there
destroying the heavens with our best of abilities
but the shame of our crimes has put us in our coffins
we push up daises as offerings to the gods living above us,
hoping they will pluck us along the rest.
there is no going back from where we have reached
we have found a new meaning of life living under the pressure.
bearing fruit of crimes that we didn't commit
we're the children of sinners.
our innocence will wash them clean
another chance to be something better.

Don't Screw UP

Overdose

Do you ever overdose on happiness?
You just feel so empty inside
So you try to fill that emptiness with love
happiness
ambition
purpose
all the positive things you can think about
But do you ever overdose?
Does it ever become too much?
It's so much that you don't feel it anymore
It just doesn't work anymore

The way you take painkillers

You start with a small dosage; the pain goes away for some time,
but it returns later, with vengeance
So you take another dose,
and another
and another
Soon your body's receptors become resistant to these painkillers
So you move onto stronger ones

The same cycle repeats and you keep moving on
Until then is no stronger painkiller

You aren't in pain anymore
but now you're addicted to the euphoria you get from them

It's a curse, because what you love can't be anymore
The painkillers don't work anymore

You overdose and all you feel is
frustration
anguish
anger
your souls being crushed under all this

It's just so sad

The path that they took has dried, but there is still moisture under my eyes

I'm not addicted to painkillers though
My pain is the mistress
Yet she evades me, says that she's "bad for me"
But I chose her,
yet, she refuses me.
So I try moving on, but it doesn't seem so easy.
Evasive behaviour is the worst
Why can't you be honest like nature?
Or is honesty not in your nature?

Let me find peace.

Please.

Party

Cold and sour blood 

of the covenant 

gets spilled on shirts 

as the dance floor hums 

with the feet of 

the people gathered 

for a feast 

Do you feel guilty 

about keeping the dead butterflies 

under the lid? 

Storing the poor lifeless 

for the pleasure of seeing patterns.

You stand aside 

from the crowds rhythmic rituals; 

a beat but no sense of rhythm 

because she sits at home 

looking at the moon 

out of her window, 

reminded of you.

Ear wig

I take comfort in thought
Like an insect
I want to crawl in your ears
Like sweet nothings whispered in the dark as I lay next to you
Making you laugh at my stupid antics
I burrow myself away in your head in memory
I will eat your brain inside out
Like a malicious disease only fit for the worst
But my dear you are quite exquisite and quite so new
Quite a delicacy on the menu
Of crustaceans and fodder
Just to know what you're thinking of
I want to see all of your thought
Like a five p.m. TV show that you watch with glazed eyes
Unmoving, brain dead, much like a vegetable
All my words are wills and wants
But will they ever be true?
Will I ever read your poetry
That you wrote about me in a mid summer fever dream
Am I your object of affection
Or merely a reflection of your needs
You fool that chases after stability, ignore not the itch at night
It's telling you to move your body against the rhythm of the world
To be more than what you were
To look within yourself and to see the shit you've filled up
Where it was supposed to be a treasury
Is a septic tank of curses that you won't break

So tell me, my little bug
Would you take over the world with a rug
Flying on a pole
Calling it "flag of the nation of idiots"
Because that is all we can afford to
The winds will say no to fly the flag
"Far too much dirt" will be a registered complaint by the winds of change
They don't want anything to do with you
Because at the end of the day
It's ashes to ashes

And I'm the pyre bone that sticks out till the end.

Birds

Our hearts are always bumping against the rib cages
trying to break free of the confinement
because they don't belong to us,
the belong to someone else.

The heart wants what it wants,
because it is like a foolish bird,
that wants to rejoin it's kingdom
whose master is the sky.

In its eagerness to freedom,
it forgets about the parasites that live
in the sky; ready to use them,
abuse them, break them and swallow them.

But the foolish bird, like our heart
knows it's nest is waiting,
waiting to be occupied
to fill to empty hole in somebody's chest

My Type

I think might have a type
I never thought I would
But I see a pattern in the girls tht catch my eyes

A well done short bob hair
or thin rimmed glasses
Light hair
Sharp eyes
And the worst is a captivating smile

The best part about this is that
you have no idea who this reminds you of.

But if someone crossed your mind,
while reading those features,
then I must let you know;
You're screwed.

We're in the same boat though
Just like that man in an uncharacteristically bright blue kurta, begging for some money in front of a saree shop.
Who knows
Maybe he has a screw up of his own

We're all just screws, nuts and bolts in this world
That keep getting screwed into the wooden edges of a table

A perfect table
Plane,
Well balanced,
Parallel to the hell beneath us

Heaven is an arch
that doesn't fit in our properly sinsiter world
of line, angle and measurements.
Where nothing can happen without holy curves

Who gives a shit about it all anyways?

Faith

And I'm 6 years old
Begging a god that I've been taught to have faith and believe in
To let my loved ones live forever
I would always say "I don't need anything from you, just keep them safe and happy"
That is all I would ask

I've always seen people begging God for help from something or the other for themselves
But I never asked for help
I always tried to solve my own problems.
Though in the end my parents had to step in when they would notice everything going to shit
Because an 8 year old cannot score well

So I'm crying on the edge of my bedsheets
Realising that people around me are dying
At the rate where even they don't know if they will live to see another day
And it hurts me that they don't want to miss anything out of my life
For I have survived and lived for so long

But all of this makes me think if it was worth it.