Step 1

24th May 2013

#1Step 1

Powder light in my eyes,
can I see you all my life?

A reflection of your smile
floating in mid air
suspended,
as if we could turn around
in circles that complete
the season
of falling trees and rain.

Labyrinth of uncertainty,
counting every step,
understanding the vector
only to forget,
spinning my own fortune
of mistakes -
my share of existence.

Second Sex

Second Sex - The Anupam Roy Band

Theory of comfort

25^th March 2013

#9 Theory of comfort

Takes time to swallow,
skin sheds like it was supposed to,
humble in our own way
its useless to paint my walls.

If you find me lost – I always was
and remember this
my hands are often moist,
my eyes often tender,
it’s just another way of telling you
I can’t die without you.

In case you switch my blades,
let us revolve around the main plot,
the extent of this theory
that everything can be substituted
but your comfort.

I had spoken

22^nd March 2013

#8 I had spoken

Recurring thoughts and
pebbles,
lying here and often there,
cross my stars and
fail
to recognize,
ships of my past
almost perfect,
I had spoken.
When?
We really don’t
remember but
how does it change
the colour of my apple?
Another bite,
my face now turns towards me,
I crawl back to my
corner,
waiting for my mouth
to swallow the entire darkness.

Adding squares

10^th March 2013

#7 Adding squares

Spell my motions correctly
as if they were your own.
Cans of wasted dreams all over
my feet, I blew it all up,
it was an ordinary homecoming,
just another lover’s heart
breathing moisture and heavy lungs.

The squares that added up
to the floor, always extending
beyond the vertebra of a sleeping dog,
cans of wasted feelings,
spilling out of the senses,
incapable of any movement whatsoever.

River Lines

10^th February 2013

#6 River Lines

Curse, I lift my palm
to see the mystery in
river lines running across
the country, the map,
your face – it turns out deeper,
bending fast and deciding
everything that could have been
avoided.
All these sticky
days, whimpers of tiny,
rubbed against the background
monotony of orange peels,
we wish to live longer.
We wish to breathe,
rush to drink the water,
echoing in the continuous
well of a deeper thirst.

Silent Song

#5 Silent song

Used to hate
wind humming in my head,
till she silently sang
the entire sleeping car.
We were not going,
not mourning,
getting run over by trams
and gigantic ants.
The burst of silence
echoing in patterns,
the flight of a myriad
against the twilight.
Untying the shoelaces
hiding from the
deepest wells,
blocking the lacrimal canals.