Twelve times over; Twenty years under



These shoes have outgrown my flat feet
Twelve times over; Twenty years under
A chasm of sadness I never outgrew
A lifeless burden between night and day

A havoc of hazarded half-truths,
In aged-whiskey eyes of dismay,
Departing for blissful refuge promised,
Beyond the clouds of broken skies.

These insomniac headlights of paranoia
Swept under churning waves of amnesia
Struggling to float against tides of sorrow
Lingering in the marrows of suicidal minds

With fruitful hopes and dreams left unsung,
The thought of a premature end had sprung
A celebration of life to mask the pain I cried
In the final lonely nights borne of pride.


Picture By: Fine Art America(Sourced on Pinterest)





Do you know
How it feels like
To be dead in
Every breath
You take to
The weight
Of this world
Becomes heavy
On your
Heaving chest
And brittle bones.

Do you know
How it feels like
To remain quiet
In conversations
That you feel
The need to
Have an opinion
But choose not to
Because the
Energy you put
Is wasted
Upon this cruel earth



I’ll test the edge of the sharpest knife around;
The cold metallic skin making a strange sound.
As I push it down my brittle, vulnerable skin;
Stories that unravel with blood as my ink.

Pools of blood against my white-washed arms;
Darkened venom in my mind: Faint alarms.
Broken veins and broken bones;
Find me buried under monolithic stones.




We are the privileged Kings and Queens
Rulers of the world within our worthless minds
Where demons roam free in lives of frivolity
As we sit on glided thrones of pain and misery

We are the privileged Kings and Queens
Of kingdoms where rivers run in blood orange
Seeping through slits and carved valleys
As we grew and died between momentary lapses

We are the privileged Kings and Queens
Of eyes dimmed at the arrival of twilight
Seeking comfort of the unknown behind
Muffled tears and blue-black skies.

We are the privileged Kings and Queens
Of feelings as fragile as milky galaxies
Wisps of death linger around seas of self-hate
Hidden by the need of societal reflections

We are the privileged Kings and Queens
Walking along a kingdom of mediocrity
Our life measured in actions and intentions
Only to be killed by our nightmares and doubts




Dim the incandescent lights
So that darkness consumes me
As I bequeath my feeble sanity
To the lull of the restless night
And medicate on Mirtazepine
To facilitate fogs of perfected moods
In eyes drowned in eternal sadness.

Dim the incandescent lights
So that when my blue veins spill
As fissures coat my callused flesh
To the stilfed cries of the blue-black sky,
And drown the voices in my lonely heart
Blurring the skies into precious diamonds
Embarking alone into sorrowful tomorrow’s.



 I’ve given up
Like the starry stars against the rising sun
As my soul burns naked on wooden pyres
A weakened victim of withering civilisations
As bullets ricochet through millennial heads
And the floor is puddled with blood and poetry

I’ve given up
Blurred the lines between present and future
Drugged my faltered mind to a dismal dystopia
As my anxiety splits my melancholic veins
Into dimensions of saturated emptiness
And dyes the sky in crimson goodbyes.



Draped in tunics as white as snow,
She wanders, lost between midnight and noon
Her beloved, resting in levels above earth below
Recounting yesteryear’s tales beneath the crimson moon

Dancing in the ecstasy of her beloved’s tune
That painted their souls in one symphonic hue
Freshly sprung; seeds sown in wintry June,
Their unborn love; fresh as star-kissed dew

As time bows to the mercy of the supreme
Bonds we break; from this world we are free
As death snatches the fading dreams,
Tapestry of memories; imprinted within the Banyan tree