Unawakened Mornings

The rays of the morning sun that encompasses the blinds of my room to scream all over my soul that eagerly wants to wake me up when all I want to do at that time is scream back even louder than those rays that are lighting up the entire nation that my soul will still remain unawakened.. It’s not just the violet rays that I want to revert back with, they are all sorts of dark solid colors that has no protection…. So powerful that it can make the sun go blind…

It’s like I leave behind my soul on bed every single morning when I leave for work… It’s just lying there under the covers when my body is spaced out around his location. Correction : ex-location.

When there is no sleep in the night, how can it anyway be a morning ?? Forget good. It’s just a pale, formal, unwanted, itchy, dull morning that doesn’t want me to move. Nothing at all gives me a motivation to scrap my face out of the pillow. It’s so deep in it that the eyes still feel that it’s night…

The birds are not cherpy anymore.. They are crying every morning just like my soul. So they, along with the soul, are only dripping tears. The trees don’t bloom, nor is the sky blue! No inspiration, no enthusiasm, no happy faces…

So as I was saying, my soul pushes my body away and hence my body leaves the soul just like the leaves leave the trees to fall and stress the Earth even more , the petals from the flowers just keep falling one by one making surroundings uglier by the morning… The soul , it doesn’t even move, I wonder why the body does. All the time, this is the reason why I keep feeling lifeless. It’s because my body carries no soul. All it carries is the heaviness of the waiting … the burden of one-sided desperate Love… the suffocation… the hunger….

Just like my soul, even the dreams in my eyes remain unawakened… How can there possibly be any dreams when there is no sleep ? When the eyes don’t shut for even a second?? When they just end up drowning in the tears??? Many dreams are found on my pillow covers that came out in the night, ones that fall off in the form of my tears…. Just like feathers keep shedding from the birds on such mornings, just like me they lose their grace, they look a little less pretty by the day, they get rid of their USP every single morning. The morning is more like mourning… What’s the point of even brushing the teeth or cleaning yourself up or wearing clothes??? What are these mornings bringing ???

The only motive I see of these culprit mornings is that they separate loved one’s from being together. Every guy leaves for work and leaves behind the person who loves him the most : grandmother/mother/sister/wife/girlfriend. Most women leave too, leaving some loved relation behind… The mornings are only meant for separation! How evil is that !!!!

And look how time plays the wittiest role in all this… When it’s time to separate in one country, it just brings together every one in the country far off!

Who made this system any way ? If nature did so, it really couldn’t be more wrong… Because in such a way, all the birth proofs from the hospital of when a child is born is wrong. What time do they consider ? Why does the time depend on the country that you are born in ?? This means that no particular time for anything ever is correct. Not of birth and definitely not of death… Is it that our lives have just been a big lie all this time???? The two countries can’t even celebrate the same festival on the same day. One’s celebration is others silent working day.. Cruel! Cruel!! Cruel!!! The people in Love apart can’t even live with the very feeling that they are being part of the same festivities at the same time.

Ideal mornings are those when you wake up right next to the soul that you are mate with. Why don’t they make such a rule ?? Every time when YOU wake, I wake ??? Such mornings would want me to wake up unlike the being dead , not being able to see a fresh new morning at present.

Why can’t every morning be your sight to watch ?? Why can’t we pamper ourselves in the same plate of breakfast, when no clothes will matter, when kissing wont require any effort, when the same toothbrush be brought to use, when the baths are gonna be as bubbly as my cheeks, when both the souls be wide awake to meet again, when our eyes will be the only thing to drown in, when the alarms would be your bite on  my ear, when cuddles will bundle us together with joy, when we will welcome the sun the way it’s meant to be, when both our faces be only HAPPY!

Let me open my eyes and see you one fine morning..

Think about it…

Awake this bouquet of imagination….

Your’s Soulfully



Stapled Chunks Of The Broken Heart

When you feel that everything inside you is scattered into a million pieces floating all around, reaching different corners of your body , coming in contact with all organs, poking them in a really painful manner, and you are too much into denial to even give a lost glance to it, it bleeds, makes a clot in your heart, the residue just travels finding more space to reside in and suddenly in the same process the eyes get red, the bruises form a bridge for the battle between the soul and the body to get started, both fight like complete warriors every night, the soul wants to give it another day while the body wants pure death, and the body is so weak that is loses the war every time with the rise of the sun. The soul then just picks up all the pieces of everything that is lost in the battle and some how adjusts them to be together, sticks them and staples it. Nothing less than a thousand marks of the pins that get stapled are found on the heart, that in some way it gets fixed and starts functioning properly.. but the soul forgets that the increase in the number of marks is the sign of the heart only getting weaker, the crumpled, rotten heart that barely has any blood to pump, is now stumped under the pressure of those pins….

While the heart rests in pain, the ghost of all the sadness in the world brings a bag full of salt and sprinkles it thoroughly all over the bruises and every single time when a single particle comes in touch with the wounds, they emerge as tears from the eyes, dust from the lungs, smoke from the liver, broken shaky segments from the heart and a burst of memories from the past from the soul which splashes out huge chunks of the most wonderful times spent together and those chunks then cause Love Trafficking. It’s the most illegal approach to love, absolutely unfair, because nothing in the air in or around me is ready to think of those memories, so it makes it impossible for the existence of the body or the soul. Even suffocation feels like pleasure at the time.. I then throw up such wasted memories! Wherever I go, I have to be extremely careful to not to run into any such gang that would be doing the Trafficking of Love for him. No song, no place, no where I could find a peaceful place to survive in, they are all around, on every red light, some of the memories are poisoned but I still see them. Where do I stop ? Whom do I wait for ??

All the chunks (of memories) that are then pinned together (to the heart) are then distributed to all the parts of the body, the brain the most and the brain then circulates it to the deepest portions of the soul which in turn gets the vibe to fight every night all over again because it wants to live for all those memories, because it can’t take that all of it is just gone like that, because it wants it all back and still hopes for all the broken images captured from the past make a beautiful collage. The soul wants to then frame this collage on one of the biggest walls of the future home that would have him and me as residents and it wants to come out as an ultimate warrior…

I know I don’t have a pinch of strength left in me but if I someday get to see a glance of him or his shadow somewhere in the crowd, I would knit all of my inner self with every drop of blood that stains and make a flawless future out from it not caring if that leads to the end of the journey of my life because at this point, carrying this huge chunk on my shoulders is only getting tougher, I see the body bending everyday a little and the bump is the only thing on the rise now!

Stop all this R! Just bring a stop to all this already. Every bone in my body is only waiting for you to come and fix every crack in it. I don’t know for how much longer will I be able to take it, so you just have to come and take this loathe off of me. Set my soul free, bring our hearts together because only that can heal it..

Staple OUR eyes together.

Staple OUR fingers together.

Staple OUR hearts together.

Staple OUR bodies together.

Staple OUR souls together in the chunks of the memories yet to be created.

Staple the distance between US together forever.

Staple OUR futures together!

And hence, staple OUR NAMES TOGETHER!


PR <3<3


The Immortal Addiction

The never ending dark nights, the undying fall from the eyes, his long-lasting fragrance that rushes through my hair.. on some windy day I find them rubbing on my face while I feel his presence… my passion for his arms to enclose me like a mother would to her baby in the womb… the peace to my ears while he shouts.. the cure to my wounds when he hurts me… the pull that I feel when he pushes me away…

Self-destruction being the only possible solution to my addiction at this moment, I long for the unfading memories that maybe on the verge of being a blur in front of his eyes.. I feel that the more he is getting lost, the more I am finding myself stuck in those memories… Is that normal ? Why can’t a soul process in the same manner as of it’s soul mate ? After all, they are mates for a reason. Then why ???? Why do they make a mess ?? Do the external factors have something to do with this ? Is it that living in different weather conditions, eating different kinds of food, meeting different kinds of people making souls to behave like this to it’s respective mates ? Is this why long-distance is the hardest circumstance a relationship can go through??? Are we insane to blame it to the distance and the time all together when the actual reason is hiding somewhere? Irony!

It would be just as hard to believe that I haven’t slept in a month and a half now, probably an hour or so here and there in a day but thats all, I see the enslavement being so dominant on my soul/my body that if I can’t be with him then I would at least like to be active in the hours when he is active somewhere around the globe like I just have to be wide awake if he is awake in case there is some trouble and he needs me, or not. How can I sleep while he is up somewhere ? And well when it’s time for him to sleep, I obviously can’t rest my eyes then either, because otherwise who will protect him in case a nightmare in his eyes sparks or he finds trouble sleeping ??? And oh! when he sleeps well, it’s like a sight of heaven to watch so who would miss that? Yes my eyes pain , they pain like they might go blind but it would be more than worth it and so its more of pleasure : correction!

There are prayers that I keep enchanting.. mantras, magic spells, conversations with the Almighty to give him all the share of my happiness ever, so I don’t smile much or laugh because that bit might touch his lips, and even if the ratio of that would be 100:1, i.e., his one smile to me not smiling for a 100 times when required, I would be the happiest person on Earth! Irony no.2!! So I decided, accidental laughs in a day would end up by me beating my self up for doing so, so there is a record that I have literally started maintaining now.

The pleasure in all of this is so much so that I feel like this was the very reason for my birth.. to provide him with everything that he wants and when he gets a hold to all of it, I as a whole become mortal. His dreams live forever through my death. Irony no.3!!! And why not ? That death would be better than this life thats somehow prevailing in his absence.

I sometimes end up reading on how to hallucinate in such nights , I feel like finding a power, a power through which I can try to feel him, his presence, his touch, something at least.. and if there is no such power then giving rise to one because just seeing him once becomes so necessary that I feel like the entire room, the bed, the walls, the mirror, everything is going to eat me up so I shout, I squabble, I change positions, I crush myself in different angels, then I pray to him, I keep taking his name till I get normal… his name has it, when recently I came to know that his first name means complete and his last name means God, I don’t know if thats the right meaning in the dictionary or what but he is one Complete God to me.!

Everything might deteriorate some day, the entire world, the destruction, even the planet, but somewhere somehow, my passion/my addiction/my craving/my compulsion will still be alive for you decades from now… It will keep you alive ALWAYS!!! My love for you will never fade R. May happiness be after you and not the other way round.

For now, if there is the slightest possible thing that you could do , then come and bring back my decaying soul back to life. Bring the light to the darkened nights. Only you have the power to do so my Love..

Just YOU!


And let the only thing mortal between US be the distance. Kill it ! Kill it now .

Let the dryness of our lips fill our souls up to be one .

I Love YOU. The Immortal Kind!






A Drunk Doll’s Dream!

My doll is broken,

The collection of 579 dolls since I was tiny are now broken,

The hair of each doll have fallen off, and so have been their plastic hearts ripped off,

The eyes wont slitter anymore, nor do they look pretty,

They used to dream with me all night and each doll had about a 1000 dreams which means that 576000 dreams are now lost which means lost of every emotion, every fear , every delicate moment of life….


My dad’s doll is broken too,

There is not much difference,

The heart of my dad’s doll is chucked out and a huge chunk of it has been fed to the street dogs,

The eyes of my dad’s doll won’t shut for a second,

The dreams of my dad’s doll are only horror,

The fits are for real,

The body of my dad’s doll is sweating all the time,

And “it” looks ugly as f***,

The story of my dad’s doll is far more painful because its a real person. “It” is ME!

“It” was assaulted as a kid all along and there was no one to burry her pain apart, no one whom “it” could tell on how her own close relations would eat her up. “It” was literally treated like a doll, a non-living toy to play with, just that “it” had pretty hair and the flickering flaunting eyes.

Today “it” is found in a garbage can two blocks from here full of dirt from the rains, and the only thing still talking is “it’s” eyes, the open-eyes that are stuck at a point for days, no movement anywhere,

Some liked “it’s” clothes, so they took them, some liked “it’s” jewelry, so some people took that,  some liked “it’s” hair bands, so they took it , some liked “it’s” shoes, so they even took that but no one liked “it’s” heart. No one! No one liked “it’s” soul!!! No one liked “it’s” dreams.

All thought that “it” was drunk! Wasted!! Hammered!!!! But was “it” really ? Yeah “it” was. High on love of the long lost lover. The wait ate “it” all up.

The one and only dream “it” always had locked up in her eyes was of “it’s” masculine owner, it never knew that he would just play with “it” and let go when done.. How strong do you think “it” could’ve been in all this ????? “It” kept on longing for the love of the owner 24*7, 365 days in and out all the time, but all “it” was treated as just another toy.

Its him who has thrown him out to garbage now. “It” now stinks all what and the frustration in “it’s” dreams are only boiling up by the second… “It” was never drunk! “It” was just wanting a dream to come true. A dream of life! A dream of mankind. A dream of love! Was it too much to ask for ????

”It” gave in possibly everything “it” could have all what without thinking twice, not about her own self for once , none at all . Yes . Yes “it” looks so high now of sorrow , It’s like “it’s” already placed perfectly well in the grave but there is still no peace . Yes she throws up every now and then probably “it’S” way too wasted .: Even the grave is full of dirt now .

Finding you is actually like trying to come back to life right after death . It really is that tough right at this moment . Its making me sick! In no time I really might quit this full of shit life. Really , I have no idea why life got in the way between you and me ..

I have considered myself nothing but a non-living thing in this post and that’s because that’s what I am without you .

One of those dolls who only used to come alive when touched on the heart or kissed on the cheek or tapped on the feet or when braided or when fed or flicked on the head ..

If there is any humanity/love left across this planet , God will have to get him to me . If he actually wants me to come back to life . If my life holds any value at all . If he wants me to be me , he will have to take steps back already closer to me .. if I ever loved him at all , he will just have to! If there was the slightest of honesty in what I felt for him , he will show up from somewhere , don’t know where from exactly but he will.

Turn those keys around so that I can start clapping again R!

Sober me up to your high!

Wake me up to your dreams!

Fix your doll up!

Even dolls have souls!!!




Justifying the term as it is, A-part spelled backwards is A-trap.

Being a-part from you has trapped me like a rat in a cage. An unwanted creature that has no where to be now a-part from being enclosed. Even that little piece of bread that lured me in the first place to get in is over. I wonder how shiny it appeared before I got to it, I was so quick and my hunger was beyond words to get hold of that tiny little bit of it. And now, now there is no bread and well, I am trapped!!!!

A chain! A chain so heavy is tied all around my entire body with zero to no space to move even the tiniest bit . The trap of being a-part from you is so monstrous that there is no way I can get out of it. Where my horizons are depleting by the day as this cage consumes me, I see your horizons stretching out to no limits! New people, new office, new places, new surroundings, not even a single thing probably which would make you remember me. And I on the other hand, sit here in the trap built by you with a huge clock in front of me. I am so hypnotized by the pendulum that I could hang my self up to death on it.

Biggest Trap of all is being A-part from you why don’t you get it ??? HUH???? Everything that I do in this trap makes me guilty as charge. I don’t know why I look at things because trust me everything that I see when I see it, all I feel like doing is snatching my eyes away to have seen it without you, where ever I go, I feel like burning that place down because its not with you, why that when I walk, my legs want to cut itself down for not walking towards you ???? Why that with everything that I eat, I am only getting empty in my stomach because even the food doesn’t want to get inside of me ??? Why is it that I just feel like each and everything that I do in a day is a punishment??? Everything that is existing without you just shouldn’t because you are not being participative here. Just this post! Because every bit of it includes you or the breathe I take because it smells of you or this body that calls out for you.!

Its like I have been cursed by the worst sin possible i.e. being away from you. Where I thought that 3 seconds in a day without you would be unsuccessful, right there, 3 months have passed by and as much as I happen to hate this number, I wouldn’t want you to make it even by 4. I promise you to give up my OCD for odd numbers specially 3 if you show up right away. Everything in my life will add up to 3 and thats a promise. 3 breaths a day, 3 meals, 3 times that I will brush my teeth, 3 times that I will go pee, 3 times I that will sleep, 3 times the smile on my face that will appear, even the fever that I will ever catch would be 103 or a 100.3!!! 3. 3. 3. Make this number to be the luckiest for me.

All my body needs is to be trapped in your arms, as hard as possible, crush me in there and I won’t mind or in those eyes, just trap all of me in them and close it, keep me there! or trap me in your heart and I will beat in whichever way you want me to or trap me in your brain and I will be the most intelligent of them all or trap me in your little pocket and I wont complain if I am not able to breathe or trap me in your tears and I will be so confined in your eyes to never fall off or trap me in your or trap me in your mouth or your ears or your fears or your laptop if thats what you love or any other gadget and I wont utter a single word all my life without your command or trap me in your shoes as your socks and I wont ever stink or trap me in your high that your get after alcohol and I will go never let you sober down.










The Numbing Bird

The paralyzed soul thats hanged to life. The frozen eyes. The drugged horizon of the body lying down straight. The senseless brain.

Zero responses. Failure in recollecting whats yours. Yelling in the ears of a dumb person. Displaying the most colorful nature in front of a blind person. Singing with no tongue on the top of your voice.

The sucked up blood that is sprinkled on the walls of the heart which has made a rangoli of a dying princess.

Salt on the wounds is the only thing giving pleasure. Handicapped knees crawling to him. The suicide note getting closer to be completed by the day.

The sun rays now emerge as a destructive source to ruin the nest. The cherpy birds have now experienced death. Their little ones have fallen from the edge. Thrown, stepped by on the ground, cut off wings, blown away by the winds..

The burnt emotions. The let down dreams. The impractical vision. The fear of facing the reality that exists no more. The price tag on tears teared off.

The obsession growing the size of my heart causing more pain. The planted thorns in my chest watered by tears every day. The fractured fingers playing tunes to my sorrow.

The pressure of depression pressing the weight of my fatal fears to kill the zeal inside me. The pain of vagina that breaks every month is now a treat and can be used to decorated my tomb.

The fallen leaves on the ground now are as lifeless as me here. The sweat from being torn down is the perfect fortune.

One by one, each and every layer of the body getting pealed of with every sentence that he utters. The strength to shut him up is vanished with my voice box, heart, soul, lungs…..

Like funeral happening in Disney land, breakups happening right in front of Eiffel tower, rejections happening on The Empire State Building, heart breaks happening at The Taj Mahal.

The flaws in our stars just laughing at me. Bullying me. Taking away the spark from the eyes away from me.

For every drop of rain that touches anywhere on the body is now converted into fire slowly burning the pages of my life down. The BLOG now turning into my death will deciding the share of poverty of love of my unborn kids..

Like the tiniest insects which are trying to find a way to a hole scrolling from my feet and making there way up are only crawling on my scalp sucking away the blood causing tremors of unstable love. The hands that shake only when I try to breathe…

The sickness causing asthma, vomits, body pain and what not is only leading to destruction of the soul because of the high residing in the lids of the swollen eyes in turn making them blind, making them dry!

Soul being raped, smiles being faked, life at stake, troubled by fate, in the process of wait has made life hell in today’s date . The buried wrath has its third month anniversary today and the coffin still feels like the cover of a magazine from centuries back because no one has visited it all this time…

My own nails scratching the peals of the soul off every night, no clothes on the body wishing to leave the way it came, the blanket has zero movement, glanced from far above, it will look immortal but still being dead in the position of hugging him.

Blading off a nerve tonight was the only thing left to do for the sake of existence, a reminder to self was necessary in order to live in the days to come. The fallen drops of blood has made a garden in his tribute, my tears go to play there everyday . The blood and tears mingle well… though the blood stinks of sweat that can’t wait any longer.

You want to know the highlight of the day though R ? I met your guard of the gate today, he was only feeling sorry for me, I sat and had a bite with him.. It made his day and mine too being closer to your premises talking about you… Funny thing was that i kept looking in the direction from which you used to come and he noticed and said he won’t come, right there, i got numb!

(no more words…..

Happy Anniversary 3 months. And if you want to make something numb , then numb the pain….


And may this bracket never be closed ..


The Unfair Affair.

A love affair that has become a trade-fair which is deeply based on the laws of buying and selling of feelings and expectations , where every individual has their own monopoly, where the price is set by the person who is dominant than the other, where the relationship between the two is mostly inverse which would mean that when one of the two partners is showing more love and care, the other will drop down on the same logistics, where the curve is always downward sloping, but nevertheless, it never fails to prove the law of diminishing marginal utility which states that the more you have of something, the less you require it.

Would this mean that the more you love someone, the less will be required by them? How cruel would that be ? How Unfair!

The universe has various laws and many many followers following them, but I resist! I object on the very law where Love is considered nothing but just another object, like an item. Like the Universe has set the pattern up for everyone and we are following it without questioning.. I won’t know much about politics but Love… How can we be expected to abide by the rules before, in the process, and future of loving someone ???

How can we not understand the fair deal that Love has to offer us ?? Why do we keep bargaining for little things that slide by us everyday and ignore whats in store for us ???

Why can’t we build our own draft of Imagination and Reality ??? Why can’t the slope between them always be constant ??? Why is our preoccupation always rejected by people ? Why is it called a dream world ?? Why can’t it be a mystic reality ???? Why ???? Why does one have to trade anything but souls in this kind of relationship ???? Why is our imagination always confused by dreaming and sold out without any awareness???

As for me, before you enter the business marketplace, every entrepreneur has a whole set of motivating factors, the confidence, the way he/she is going to build an empire.., I, before I was introduced to the unfair sealed/suffocated/complicated deal of having a soul-mate, things in my road map looked pretty clear:

To begin with, I knew that to ACTUALLY love someone,

A lifetime would be too short to even start the journey with… So from the second you are born, at least, you know that you belong to him, no one, not even your parents but he would understand the baby language, in the nursery, right next to one another, those tiny little fingers reaching out to him, so both are now in the same pram. The tiny lips pout to kiss one another, the purest form when you won’t know the caste, sex or money worth of that person….

Both should then just be deported to a different island all together .., a really simple one would do! A nest, which would be his heart and I am just residing in there, getting that heart the pump, the blood, the love! The three main ingredients… So cherpy the beat of that be is what I knew of… Far far away from the biased world…

His shadow would be my shelter.., I would just hold to it and even if I am bending down to pray to the almighty, it would be me placed on the shadow somewhere in the sun light…

No food, no water, no money, no makeup! The only thing prevailing in the air would be the beauty of Love.. It would be so pure that nothing else would be required. Like I would envy the tiniest bit of bread if he eats it….

Naked. Like we were born.. Like we are going to leave… Just by looking at the body, even a stranger would know who I belong to so he doesn’t dare to even pass by me…

No excretion, because there would be no waste in the bodies.. Nothing would be harmful.. Nothing would be hurtful….

No colors except that of the eyes, like when I look into his eyes or vice-versa, there would be an actual ocean that I am drowning in. Like literally… Like I am the most beautiful version of myself in those eyes, honestly getting the satisfaction of all orgasms in those eyes without even touching one another…

I really wouldn’t want to blink. The very fraction of the second when I do that would be the one and only cause of my death!!!

When he takes my name, I would obey whatever follows that name… ANY.THING. FAIR OR UNFAIR! The making of Love would mean the end of the world. An expiration date to my soul because it has surrendered. Like I am in the most beautiful place across this planet! Gosh.. Like there would be zero movement in the ocean, time would just stop, no air, no births or deaths! Nothing apart from me and him.

All of this was laughed at ! I was told that its a stupid dream world. Its Unfair to even think of this.. Was it really ??

Why did this Affair have to be so Unfair ????

So much so that we have been separated because of the rules that we are all forced to follow, and not the heart! That the very existence of my own self is lost! That my moon is not bright enough to shine the inner core! That forget the blinking, my eyes just want to stay shut! That my nerves are breaking down , falling out of energy in calling his name out! That the tears have now turned red… That the……..

Like I have literally stopped feeling anything in my fingers, they have gotten so numb by counting the number of days since you have been gone.. and it just hit me., this is exactly why they are called numbers…

Like with every cigarette I light, all I wish is for a single cloud of smoke to reach you across the country in that air just to tell you how much I miss you..

All I want right now and really I wouldn’t mind it at all, just being the tiniest particle thats stuck on your eye lid and I can swing on them, then fall off on your face someday and you make a wish that I can make true!

No matter the regulations in this Affair, I oath to never stop believing in my Love for you.

My Un-dying affection for you will always be stronger than the Un-fair man-made created orders to Love.

And why can’t this be possible that the proclaimed Reality is actually an Imagination and we all just hallucinating this illusion when, in the parallel universe Imagination is the actual Reality that exists ????

I can say so because I have taken a trip with you to that world on one of your birthdays… I wish we could do it again sometime….


Everything without you around me is making me dull. Is this fair ?????

R ~~ constant curve ~~ P

Where ‘R’ stands for : Reality

And ‘P’ stands for : Passion

Lets meet at the break-even point for once and not let even that break us!


The Soul Stirring Slurp Of Lust

The stains of tears that are spread all over the bed that is perfectly made…

The accumulated breaths that find zero space to release in the air…

The stammering words that are too scared to spill your name…

The heated up soul that is burning all sensations inside out of you…

The sweat that is driving you passionately to mix up with the soup of that of his.. *slurrp*

The dried off lips which won’t light up even after gallons of water…

The feet that won’t hold the grip of the other during the peak of satisfaction…

The teeth that won’t bite on to the lips craving for more…

The “sigh…” which will never be of relief…

The hold that the body requires will now be out of control at all times…

Shouting out to his name during the course of action , is gone… It’s like I am yelling but the voice won’t budge… The movement of the lips is all that is visible but no sound… simply put , I am on mute…

The feeling of being born again,

Like all the sins being washed off,

Like you are recreated,

Or like a dead soul was brought back to life,

Like you were never this pure…

…is no more, so you have to live with the old, unpolished self… the lifeless self…

I find myself harshly moving my neck/face sharply in the left and right direction, kind of like I am banging it.., like my hands are tied and they are trying to set free, my legs alternatively sliding up and down,  first the left leg followed by the right one.. like my mouth is sealed so I can’t even cry for help, so my eyes .., they twitch so bad…, even my breathes shiver the in the middle of the night.. it is so powerful, the addiction to stir up in his fantasies pulls all the emotions out of me at once while the thirst of wanting his saliva right through the tiniest pores in my body never quenches… It’s a simultaneous process…

He keeps flashing in my closed, scared, quivering eyes, and if they accidentally open up, like even 1/3rd bit of it, all they see is a dark space, so I thought to keep the lights on through the nights, and yet I drastically failed, even after that, all I see is a dingy, dull, the darkest shade of grey place…

I want to be painted again.. Like I am his canvas.. I want all his colors to lubricate all over me.. I want to look like a beautiful abstract again.. I want to mix with all the paints he has got… I want to come out in the most amusing manner… the strokes of his fingers not missing a single part of me…, the juxtaposition of our souls in the most rhythmic manner… I want him to brush off all the flaws in me and replace them in whichever ones the way he wants… while making me feel like the most sensual thing lying in front of him, how great it would be if he uses a single color to fill up the path to my forehead…. *slurp*

I feel like being stitched to him.. like literally with pin and a thread…

I feel like getting my self a 100 running tattoos of his name all over my body probably then it might come to rest…

I feel like getting his finger prints stamped on my soul, maybe then it will start functioning…

I feel like getting the marks of his teeth, head to toe, in order to feel my existence, to realize that it wont be a dream at that point…

My stomach jumps.., my  heart beats like its going to come out.., my ears flood of blood..

I wish he could whisper love in them… I wish we could cuddle between the pillows of lust and love at the same time all the time and lie in bed for days….

He is like the ideal cards to my tarot reading and I want him spread them all over me…

Come .. come and embrace our stars together, collide our horoscope, blend our fortunes to eternity, let our bodies be free by caging to one another, let my hands only be tied to yours, let my soul breathe what you exhale, let the bed covers crush from all sides, let the tears flow while you suck them and make them yours..

Lets make a complete recipe book of the night that we share to stir all our spices in one go and make a delicious dish to be served hotter than hot and kill the hunger…

I Lust your Emotions

I Emote your Greed

I Love your Sensation

I Sense your Treat

Arms wide open, legs crossed… Oh Jesus, build some magic out of the symbol you died on to unite the distance between love and money that the world resides on….



(forever and always)


Competing With The Curfew!

The 11th hour! The most crucial time of all to pay attention to the unattained emotions. When the time is following you wherever you go.. The darkest nights with not a light to follow, a complete black out in front of your eyes.. You are impaired of all the possible reflexes.. The deadline.. Quite literally ———-

Like your soul has been ordered to be statue not knowing when will it be over! The preposterous regulations until dawn. The fall of your body along with that of the day. The spark that is lost. The dullness is the only thing constant….

Have no where to be. Even the candles wont last and blow off immediately, no source of light! Just the dark and you hear all kinds of stray mourning down the street. The scared heart to itself … No hope! The dying religion.. The falling leaves… The drained away beauty of the nature. Like the end of the world.

Where you can’t even recognize your close ones, the ones who love you, because its pitch-black. So you can’t see them! Even though they are there but you are so blinded by the obsession and depression and madness of the very silent yet a night that shouts out mites! The mites that will eat all of you and no one will know because everyone is indoor. The mites that will then be eaten by cats and in turn dogs and so on.. No one will ever know where you disappeared in the twilight and time will still travel and make its all the way through.

Getting back home is the best possible solution as one of you may debate, but where is home ?? What to do with a home that has no shelter, no roof, no food, no water. Nothing as basic as air.

He is Home!

I am the potential buyer.. In books, on paper, everywhere. It is where I belong. That is the only place out there to get me safe around all the curfew! Even in this darkest space, i am all dressed up, waiting for you, wanting to be undressed, to be crowned up. Nothing. Not even this night can take the beauty you see in me away . From an outer space, you will only see me lighted up for you.! Phew!!!!!

So yes, these arms, this body, even my hair, are not safe in this injunction till I am rescued home… I don’t wanna run away from this nasty little place for crying out loud. I wanna be a permanent resident here if its not for him.

What will be the point of all the gala ? The life ?? The lights ??? The muse ???? I as it is feel like walking dead in an even dead place. The more everyone around me gets invisible, the more visible my tears become to him. The sound of only my heart is audible in a rescript.

SIGNALING : I keep sending him all kinds of signals through the breath I take, the fingers I move while writing this, the legs that are too restless to walk, the eyes that are getting closer to close by the day, the machine inside of me that roars his name, the lips that are let dry. Even the nails on my fingers are only growing for the hope to reach him and get that touch after all.

In the world that is getting older, my love for you is only getting younger by the day. When the most negative environment can’t let my feelings down for you, then I don’t know what will. I throw splashes of water on me after all the dirt that gets in the pores of my skin after a long day everyday, and now I have even started hating that. I don’t even want water to touch any of me. Nothing can except you….!

The organs that are alive in such a ruthless condition are only because you touched them at some point. The alarms are always on, so close to my brain, but the only voice that enchants straight up is that of your’s!

The very reason why my heart is still functioning is because of this one thing that i realized quite recently. It being : YOU!

YOU ARE THE BIRTHMARK TO MY HEART. The very core of it. Exactly why the curfew couldn’t harm it or me. I have you inside of me R! There is nothing less or nothing more that I would ever want in addition to it.

I wish that all my signals some day some how reach you very soon and you get me out of the time that keeps laughing at me, the darkness that keeps hiding me, the thunder that keeps haunting me, The CURFEW that keeps killing me.

Probably it just wanted me to get to you before the world around me blacked out. Probably your cocoon was the best place to be in before it hit me. Probably I should’ve been home (YOU) on time. Probably……

Your mark all over me and my birth in this universe are co-related.

Curfew locks up all the doors in me , but the one for you will always be open.


Just. Come.


The Weightage Of The Wait..

Maximum Marks : 10000

No. Of Questions : 10000

Each Question : 1 mark

All Questions are compulsory

Each Question has an Option . Tough call on which one to chose

Time Limit : LIFE!

Each question comprises of the following :

(i) Burden/Pressure

(ii) Anxiety

(iii) Pain

(iv) Shattered moist liquid down the eyes

(v) Tension

One Question Paper everyday till he comes back!

So this would practically mean that 10000 questions multiplied by 5, which means a set of 50,000 parts of my brain/body and soul, for each day. 2 months and 2 weeks for now which means 50,000 multiplied by 93,000,000 and even this number seems less with the amount of weight I feel on my soul. Why so rotten ? Why so hollow ? Why so enormously painful this weight! Its the kind of weight thats digging me down inside the floor.

Like that bucket thats always tied around a well, which is thrown down to bring the water for consumable purposes, the only difference here being that I am carrying the weight around, I am the one drowning in that well and I am the one being consumed! Such heroic multi-purposes by one soul without a substitute is draining all the energy away.

The Weight is Aging (weight-age) and so am I but waiting for him still feels so freshly wounded. Like it was just scratched through my veins. And the blood still has miles to flow.

It already is over-weight but still keeps gaining more of it and can be measured by time at any point. More time would mean more weight! wait! Its like a malnutrition labour carrying hell load of bricks to a building is so taller than The Empire State Building, but imagine some one who is fed with no food or water for several days, except the mixture of the sweat. blood and tears that enter through the lips, how far off can that person carry those bricks to make the architecture look flawless???? But she still does, she does

For the wait is the beauty of their Love.

For the weight will make her to the top in all the exams.

For the wait is pure.

For the weight will set them free.

For the wait that will actually make them wait for a moment there and hug!

For the weight will mean adding more weight to their Love.

For the wait will lead us to a Happy Beginning.

For the weight on his shoulder will only be me, my arms around them and him carrying me.

For the weight , will brings out body weights together!

But for how much longer is the weight going to age ??? I don’t want it to grow. I don’t want it to live. I wish it dies and so does the distance that prevails between your eyes and mine. I wish that I could match our footprints from the time when they were seperating .. I wish I could collect all that sand as a difference between us and reach out to you !

The wait has the weightage of the investment of my entire universe, my galaxy, my inner core, my deepest scars, my loneliest night, my low bow, my even heavier breathes, the breathes that are too difficult to take now, the jitters in the worst way possible, my hormones that keep switching like a fluctuated bulb, my temper that goes out every other second, my so called patience that has never been more impatient before, the rains that are too afraid to touch me, the winds that can’t slide through me, the fits in my soul that are alarmed every time my phone pings for a sight of your message, the membrane that is now only traveling through my emotions, the trip that is nauseating to even think of sleeping!

I promise you that there is more to it. Just the words in my brain seem to stop since it already is carrying a lot of weight which absolutely can’t wait now.

Will you just show up from somewhere now ?????

I don’t know if it will require a magic trick for you to pop-up but just come already. The tears are building an ocean now..

Always know that the one whole sole reason for my soul to be fond of this weight of wait is because it is for YOU. At least it has you in some form.


And the one time i wish i could’ve ever used this word right was when you turned around to leave … R???? WAIT !!!!!!!!!!