Away

She was away
In every sense
We never met
Or spoke
Or even smiled

But there was
Something
Only I felt
I'd like to believe that

If she had felt
And hadn't held my hand
I'd feel less important

I walked as if
I didn't see
I acted as if
There weren't we

But every cell
Called for her
My being
Slowed for her

"I'm not that bad"
I lied
I even tried
To call her
In my head

But she was
Away
In every sense

Sentences
Of her beauty
Kept fighting
My inner self
Defending itself
From the hurt
From not being
Able to get her

Forget her
Said my head
And then our eyes met
I was a fresh lover
Since then.

The split.

A reflection
Of me
In a reflection
Of you
Had brought
Me up
To see
My truth
Reflecting
Past
Reflecting
Sins
Reflected
Heart
Staged
Wins
Just to
See
A tear
Of You
Tear apart
Me and you
The rivers
Flowed
Their own
Ways
But the ocean
Sits
Where it stays
However still
The river
Filled
With
Reflection
Of me and you
A reflected
Heart
A deflected heart
In the end
And from the start
Will abide
By nature's rule
For those who
Question are
Either fools
Or separating
From
The rivers flow

Every rapid
Every tree

The rivers feel
The rivers see
Have memories
Once
They reach the sea.

Rants

Questionable signs
Questionable mind
Questionable existence
And within the blinds
Offering spectacles
Of nature
In the near future
Creature of habits
Creatures of unprocessed desires
Now slowly aging
In death
In the ends of
Different tangents
Bending insides
Note the rules
Not the boundaries
fools
Teaching Ecstasy
Through different tools
Self induced
And real too
Made by men
For Men
Through men
Getting closer
to Zen's
Image

Everyone likes pictures
We feed upon them
The image in our
Needs of everything
Like hungry monsters
Or tornadoes to the weak
We feed.

The third one.

Once upon a time 

There were three kids. 

None of them really wished for being someone amazingly wealthy.

Almost as if they were enlightened. 

Almost as if they hadn't come down to your level to be risen.

The way they were and they way they had been was so comfortable. 

They experienced their mother's womb in their living state. 

What job do you have in your mother's womb? 

What debts? 

What relationships are you thinking of? 

What comfort do you wish for? 

Which drink would like in there? 

What gravity could pull you down? 

What guilt could you feel for being who you are? 

Which friends did you wish to meet in there? 

What expectations did you have in there? 

What dreams did you manifest? 

Were you even happy? 

Or sad? 

Or reluctant? 

What abuses did you learn? 

What languages did you have to communicate in? 

What was death to you in there? 

What was life instead but being? 

What questions did you look for? 

They just didn't know what to do. 

There was nothing to do except... accept. 

'Kill everything' one said.

'Cowards' said the other.

The third one kept quiet. 

Posing Indifference

We hadn't even looked at each other. I had seen her hands in my dreams once. Her perfect set of hands held a cigarette in one. I felt like offering a joint. I was afraid to look at her face though. Self doubt has it's own trip. I thought I was ill once, falling for what others hadn't recognized as beauty; little did I know I was gifted.

I hesitated before looking at her. She looked like a moonlit candle. I saw the fire lit inside her through her eyes. I did not want to freeze that moment in time because I was familiar with the pleasure of ending things. I let it be. I knew I wasn't even going to regret not trying. jungles look beautiful until you start living in them. in between the excitement for taking the first step and reciting my past with her, there was a bridge of insecurities and fears.

I let that moment end without being noticed. It was a beautiful moment in time.

Stubbed Buds.

There are
Six senses
We always forget to count ourselves in
Gods don't live without disciples
Butterflies are not pretty without our eyes
It's not hot until you've felt it
Its not wrong until you've realised
Something known can only come from the unknown
Real comes in from the dreams
In between all of this lies our perception
At the other end is reality
Opposites
No wonder they are attracted to each other
No wonder they are in love
And no wonder they keep fighting over small things.

The Yellow Colored Crazy

She didn't know if she was going crazy. That question wasn't important at the moment. She had thoughts that gave her shivers throughout the day. Real shivers, visible shivers. That sensation between the brows kept flickering in terms of intensity day by day. At times she wasn't she. Not even human. It didn't matter what she wore, or what her skin was made of. She only knew waves of sensation that kept telling her she was alive. She couldn't just depend on what she saw or felt. others said they were dreams. When she slept, she felt dead; we create our own dreams and for that one needs to be alive, not one but something.

'Why not our comfortable madness become our religion rather than someone else's as your guiding path for life?' she often thought.