When your house is unlivable, And home corrupt You feed yourself enough information to Sit, talk and smile like the rest. A child grows up an empty shell An oversaturated sponge Every line he writes later in his forties Sleeping with his lonely wife Is an act of undoing. He smells of his father one day and learns not to hate it Frowns when the TV is too loud, like his mother did Like she does Perhaps. The sound doesn't reach him across states, And he sleeps with his lonely wife again In another unlivable house And another day in the office passes: He flirts with his colleagues and despises them somewhat Munching on politics and the crisis of the day He sits, talks and smiles Like the rest.
Suddenly the window clears and you see the outside Then within Unhappy, unhappy. Better than false hopes No man, broad enough to cover your dread, Laughter not raw nor gentle, My face dripping off and splashing on my pillow A woman of wails and failed tugs at the heart. I spoke of some old longings The need that burns into my time Leaving my days shapeless and impotent for a future But the shadows nodded their heads One quick jerk and there they fly Away from my body I am looking for what I should look for but never expect to get. How hard as a rock have I become I wonder Not a mountain, not big enough, But the rose glasses are off Another lifetime of loneliness, Of chasing more shadows perhaps. For now I look outside as the rain hazies it all I scroll through my phone Unhappy. Unhurried. Unmoving, to a fault.
Ash, it's nothing but concrete, ground to micro bits Solid and useless No road not a dead end. It's nothing but ash. I held him in a dream a few years ago Arms fitting perfectly around his sweating back. My nose is married to that scent, I would know him anywhere, Given a chance. I'd like to think he is dead now Or someone entirely different Who smells of cologne or perfume or something more artificial I'd like to imagine him as a robot, alive and dead, And satisfactory for my script. He was all ashes in the end, And my chase was clumsy and unrewarding Yet my heart And my nose Grew. Tonight the rain falls and some of my hair has silkened into milk I am alone but wiser. For a moment I make the mistake of regretting.
I take a tender piece of art And eat it Stubborn chewing until it's all inside me Broken down and easy Until I let it consume me And I am no longer a woman who cannot feel. Sometimes I want to switch off the lights too early At other times the urge to wake up an old woman Who has lived a life Years of deep, devoted caring And cared for Is so strong that I remind myself my grandmother's bones are as hollow As her heart is full. If only I could give away my love freely Like a brilliant sunflower I know If only I didn't need to be loved back completely Precisely If not more, But I am younger than I feel and these years will have to be lived in Before they become a strong house of hardened bricks And weathered door-hinges. To love and be loved has to be taught and learned I am no sunflower I shy away from gold. On days that autopilot removes all warmth I bide my time until A sweet bite of two lovers embracing Or an old man and his cat And I am flushed again with my mortal joy To feel.
I kept looking inside a room full of people Where my heart isn't If love is a traveler, Why isn't my shell cracked through? I loved him, I thought, His face dissolved into a pebbled path Yellow ochre, brown, caramel, smooth Shiny black round ounces of clever tease Adorable, A miniature eternity full of joy. In my people watching blues I miss him The idea more The rain on a running kitten, so beautiful And honest I'd give anything for a lick of warmth Anything to be missed In a way that is unreal and not mundane. No inane throwaway words Nor promises heavied by the want to make one happy I jut my jaw out and breathe in, Hoping for a deep-seated longing A centrifugal force I, the main character, the favorite catchword A narcissist's heaven A hungry kiss and I will call it love.
A headache that never subsides. Do you know stars explode? I'm at your feet Lean into my eyes, can you see? Not even a spark, yet I'm burnt out and split into so many women Choose any for the day. There will be no price, my love, please lean into my eyes If my limbs were strong I could sprint off To somewhere far away where I could be water Greening plants, birthing flowers and fruits I am at your feet, sorry, I am limp and unmoving A headache explodes in my recurring daydream Lean into my eyes and suck away its light Bury me into a darkness that can never show me Something that pulls out a sigh. Can you be timeless and old? I could love you forever. You can remember me as long as You want If you do. Before it all ends into a heap of wispy words Dry and dusty I will cry a river Coloured by the moon.
Did I love her like a student
Eating like treats every new thing she dropped on my lap
Or did I love her like a child
For the eternal questions she threw in my arms
Did I love her at all?
Could I have loved her if I didn’t know what it means to love?
I know I was perched on her shoulder
And she carried me with a smile as broad as her swath of hair
Did I love her like a fighter?
Years of walls I had broken
My walls
But I had no help breaking them, I fought,
My flabby arms are strong, in a way no one can know.
I loved her like a fighter, her arms were like the branches of a mother tree
I knew she held me even if I’was no more solid than a splash of water,
There was only a calm and a soft silence that I will not remember perhaps.
Did I love her like a puzzle
To my eyes she had gaps and I could never know more than what she told me
Or what I could assume
Did I love her without knowing if there was at all any room for me
In her life which I hope (I am sure) will be long
Outstanding
Bright and chaotic like a star
Did I love you then
Or do I love you only when I’m gone
Only afar?
If my skin was not so dry Your touch would possibly never flake away Dandruff-like, settling on the floor with dust Stepped on like memories that promised once to matter. I could have made you into a small pillow Carried under my arm and protected with all my might We would sleep against a mango tree My fingers curling around your hair Or the other way round In the sweetness of a hot Delhi afternoon I would have nibbled into your palm To remember you like a treat. If you asked, I would make a sculpture out of your arm That reaches around my shoulder Your narrow back and the ebb and flow Of tidal hair gurgling in a voice that only suits youth I would remember you in the shape of a fairy. If you needed to know, I would spell out The beauty of your poetry that slips out of your dark vignette How I hate your brilliance, blinded by your shadow How I nurture your follies and relish in your love. I could also write, if you insisted, on the sunlight of your dreams Of visions as clear as a freshwater lake On your blotless reason and selfless stretch of a heart. If you wondered about yourself I would teach you, my friend, You are so unmistakably yourself That I am pushed towards some envy And a whole lot of pride. But I am a small woman, with a smaller heart Rough patches of fabric on taut, hollow bones A blowed up box of pleasantries and Nothing inside. I would like to remember you Like the purr of a cat against my hesitant chest So that when the world ends in a nondescript accident Or in a celebrated glory Or whatever I remember the pleasure of a welcome guest.
An old quarrel, a misfit love and a heartbreak
A child’s heart snaps like a chalk
It bleeds uncomfortably
Haven’t you heard it screeching on a blackboard?
I wish I’d shouted at you, but I didn’t
We ended
Neither on good terms nor bad
Just like a bird speeds towards its death
On a crystal clear pane.
Sometimes I use you like a compass
Not the kind that leads a lost sailor to his land
The kind you can prick into a soft flesh
In a sadistic drive you train yourself to feel.
I can move past you
Medical opinion forbids picking at old wounds
I should move past you to make room for more
Yet I need you, my original sin
Without your touch my pen wouldn’t bleed
I wouldn’t know how a child’s hand
Drops forever, limp,
In a school courtyard where everyone is blissful and stupid
Not marred with the agony of loneliness
Yet.
Before we settled for a lie, He was curious. What made me unique? I could make him laugh in monosyllabic grunts He could make me less alone, Wanted, chased after, like the pathetic excuse of a bitch I was, I am, and I will be And don't fool yourself thinking you could never be me I was used to explaining my jokes But he made me explain my poem I am not sorry it wasn't about him, if I'm honest. To sound like a villain is not a crime But he meant nothing to me. Why would I lie? His voice was deep but his words were shallow His decision that I was smart (Unlike other girls) Was as funny as it could get. How else could I be unique? It was sad, but wasn't it funny? Yet I feel a bitterness turning inside me It is getting Outside the script Oh shit it's getting heavy.
mimimusing 