How can I hate myself
When I smell the city in dusk
The green trees
Naive nobodies stuck in jams
I lay my feet to sleep
My ears clouded with music
I close my eyes and rivers ripple
Through my toes
Through my bones
My ribs are open in my dream
I keep speaking of dreams
But I cannot hate the reality
It’s cruel but it made me
And I cannot hate myself anymore
Without a reality, there’d be no dreams
No stories, no songs, no lore
I make peace with the real
Even if it’s not ideal
And the river flows.
The dream-catcher dangles in my bedroom It hangs heavy with my bloodmetal burdens It isn’t supposed to catch the bad ones, I sigh. The windows usher in a breeze and I let my hair down My sweat is cooled and my sticky tears are dried New nightmares start crawling up my unkempt mind A lizard munches on a bug on the wall I’ve lost all taste There’s an ocean parting me and him All my words have gone to waste The dream-catcher dangles in my bedroom I break it, I throw it away; I wait for the moon to shine, Weaving a song for another time. I feel earthy and soft In a world of concrete rocks Coloured in apathetic gloom; Dreams break free inside my room Not all lives must have meanings Some are spent foolishly dreaming Or in nightmares uninvited I don’t expect the ocean to dry I’d rather paste on a plastic smile I don’t know what I am becoming.
Violent colours dancing on your face I watch from afar I look away Violent colours stabbing my heart The leaves are swaying Hair strands gripped on to your sweaty face I remember your anecdotes I remember you doted on me I remember it all How did I have no eyes back then? The poets and singers lament my foolishness He is standing next to you My stomach is upset with rage As he removes the silk strands from your face I mourn our days Sunlight leaking through leaves My once-negligent heart now twisting and turning Oh what I wouldn’t give now To have it all back I look at my palms and I look at your face You and your new friend begin to move away I am empty with a shell for a heart, Cursing myself for letting you go Wondering about how could I not know I cannot bear staying apart.
Give me a cushion, I’ll lay your head. You think you’re useless, but I’m not dead I’ll hammer in some sense, my God, You’re a fucking treasure! I love your work, your art, your thoughts Your pain and your pleasure Cry all you want, here, take some ice-cream You can, always, come crying to me I’ll tell you some new jokes for myself to laugh at So you’d smile too; for me that’s enough, and I love you like family, my friend, You say you love me too We’re fucking amazing At most things we do! Or maybe just some things, who cares, right? Let’s listen to some music and we’ll be just fine.
The screen flashes into ecstatic noises I throw a pillow to suffocate it and it groans It’s a new smartphone, but no wonder not wise Did he say yes, or no? The notifications lie stagnant under the pillow My heart’s beating loud and I’m warm So is my phone Under the pillow it waits for my expectant palm I can’t bear to take it out but I stare at it My entire room throbbing in anticipation Even the lizard on the wall pauses to take a look And I start to lose all my patience Yes, yes! He likes me too Oh, to be online and in love! I kiss the screen And start typing It’s virtual, but real enough.
My childhood was inside books-
Fairy tales and detective stories;
Tonight when the city dies another death
I clutch at my laptop
I look up those books
But I can’t go back to my grandmother’s old apartment and get them
I can’t go back to
When I was not more than three feet high
When I felt pretty
And the green grass called me
It doesn’t, anymore
How strange it is that the grass loses voice
And I lose mine
I was nine but my little palm
Could hold a world of confidence
I trapped it in my fist and placed it on my hips
I wore my blue frock and posed
And I thought the world was mine
Now I think I was stupid
Now I know I was happy
Now I know, it’s childhood
The grass, the sky, the trees, the roads,
Hell, even the streetlights after rain
They’ve all lost their voices
My old books lie dead
Do they miss a blue-frocked girl?
But I miss her
She didn’t care about the bad days she had
She was me, some day.
Now, just a third person pronoun I can’t reach
I’ll allow myself some tears
While wishing she were here
She has a lot that she could teach.
Call me by my name,
Please make sure
That I exist
In coiling streets
And stuffy traffic
When will I, for once,
Be missed?
The sun is rising
I am stepping
Down into another day
Bonds are formed
And then broken
But there is none
That I have made
Before I forget myself
I write fragments
Of poetry
To make sure that I exist
I am battered and bruised
Scattered and used up
All over these
Gritty bits.
My aloneness is an island Walls so high that a tsunami can't break it down My aloneness is naked I keep trying to clothe myself in strangers' words But my skeletoned yearning is exposed and loud It's battering my brain I am back this time again My aloneness is punching me to a pulp I have no memories to eat I am hungry and in need I think I'm going to throw up.
I'm stretching my smile to cover my face I'm blinking too, to punctuate your gaze I'm learning to stay and not say no Because I've learnt that I can't go Not when death is alive and cold Uninvited guest at our doors I will stay and learn your steps You will stay and hold my waist Us against the world, so naive; We kiss and love and stay alive.
Wear a brown shirt for me I'll find a white flower for you With petals broad enough for me to scribble "I love you" In black ink Or maybe with some kohl. Will you let me put some under your eyes? Put the flower in your chest pocket You've always loved lilies, I know, And flash a smile at me So that I can call you my Textbook of love. Remember that tattered book With brown cover Short stories and poems inside English Reader Class IX? No, I didn't know you then. I didn't know what love was But I knew what it might be. Early butterflies in my belly For a boy I sat beside And this one poem in that one brown book. "If thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only." Now you, you, yes, you My book of poetry, My song of love, I love you for love's sake only. You are the textbook definition And I can read between your lines This book can have a miserable ending It can break my heart into bloody shreds But I'll read it again and again My brown textbook man Look at me with your smudgy kohl eyes Consume me in your gaze Devour me in your lines While the music keeps playing And the evening is bashful I want to be a verse in your pages While the fan whirls in this room And the curtains bathe in dusky gold I want to curl up inside your stanzas We'll stay as one until words fall apart Until it's too dark to read Until the end of poetry.
