Loops of Desperation

nay,
between redundancies
of eccentric boredom

flowing with ease
some perfect discrepancies
weaving distortions of
vagueness clarity

fleeting emotions trapped
in shallow disarray of
hope/lesness

how generous is
your pain from
continual
cravings for a
narrow escape

escaping from escaping
thus
the redundancies.

elements of missing

ah
sweet despondent sighs
between hiccups of gracious delirium
sorts of 'air painting'
her
yes, where she, the origin of nights
tarnished of blades of promiscuous
longing

she, my sweet rain on a dry land
I tremble as my protruded
imaginings
of her touch, running through the
lengths of my arm
or her lips gently touching
my burning cheeks

despite the miles or the
blurred waves of humbled ways
the many constellations
point
to her direction

to her simple smile
to her gentle laughter
to 'everything' her
that fills my soul with
unbridled joy

time, becomes such  a sweet torture
an escapade beyond what
is logical or
practical even

when seconds come gasping
for air, then the
elements of missing her
(perplexed as this may sound)
become unbearable.

m

there's not a day that passes by
that I don't think about YOU.
no two ideas where
you don't come in between
no two letters where your
initials don't sprout
no two words where
your laughter doesn't resound
no two steps where 
I don't want to run to
YOU.

there's not an hour that travels
that I don't crave for YOU.
no two clicks where
your face doesn't come alive
no two breaths where
I don't whisper your name in between
no two heartbeats where
I don't die missing YOU.

there's not a second that walks by
that I don't dream about YOU,
no two songs where
I don't hear your soft humming
no two sighs
where I don't long for YOU


in truth
there are no two great moments that
would best out that one...
(among the many ones)
that I shared with
YOU.

for YOU are not the
many YOU's,
or the consecutive YOU's
that come and go like drops of butterflies
but my
one.
true.
CONSTANT. YOU.


--to the owner of my infinite joy, breaker of my heart.

...

i fail,

at the feet of titans bludgeoning within

despised, 

my relative peace, fake and confused

then, she goes within hiccups of 

electro signals

my actions - neither exalted or doomed 

at the press of a

:)

- sold. 

. 

the reasoning fixated upon fantasia

somewhere the beats never grow old

lunacy is a residue of love

and so is

art.

Law of Relativity

cliche, everything.
copy then, paste. everything.
the relevant, the funny, both run in the same, exact, line.

and so,

this,

(fragments in a colorway dullness).

Up There

I crave, the sunset kissing my toes.
bluish, slumbering skies, blanketing everything.
I crave, the freedom, to be moronic
to be not judged, when I disappear at my feet
only to re-emerged with the joker's lipstick,
at the other side of the mirror

I crave,

for the tail end cold front,
of the breathing nights,

where, she warms my heart,
and fills my soul with
unbridled joy.

the simple things,
never tire,

the tonalities of familiarity,
bathing sweet aromas,
caressing the optimism,
of the child within

I crave,
for the absence of commas,
the banalities of q's,
the acceptance of the morning sun

I crave,
for van gogh's seductive abnormalities,
for poe's, dark and truthful humor,
for my comedic lies,
for the grammatical distortions,
of the crooked eye.

I crave,
then,

I crave,
now.