Plagiarism

… my thoughts are stars

I revel in them Victorian age forts,
Waiting oh! So ardently for my Darcy’s arrival,
Swishing and flicking my way through this arduous journey they call life,
Here fair is foul and foul is fair,
Gnomes, dragons, possibilities and a restless air,
Flickering sunlight in joyful words,
Verses of longing and musings on love,
The black board is blank but the mind wanders on,
Soars and dives, and strives to roar,
Struggles to breathe yet satisfied with the chore,
In silence and citylights, magic and books,
Coffee and people and trees and words,
I find my solace, a hellish joy in my own pandemonium, my utopia,my Hogwarts,

… i cannot fathom into constellations. 

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World.

It’s midnight, well, almost. The world is asleep, mostly, I’m wrapped up underneath two very heavy blankets and yet are still shivering from the winter inherent in my very soul, I’ve realised I’m a conflicted, damage- inflicted soul, who’s no Jane Eyre who learns to come of age, no Hazel, nor every body falls for me deeply, neither wildly, no Phoebe for whom loving thee self comes easy, no Brida who knows what she’d choose when the biggest dilemma would come her way, 
I am but me, just me, 

And even as I’m bleeding, hurting, almost, all the time, every time, and somehow, y’all will come, them, who claim to love me, tell me that it’s not there, scream, shout at me to stop faking it, the drama, to stop trying to ask for attention, to stop , shut up, 
Sometimes I do that, I do, I shut down. 

I spend my days reading in a chaotic environment, well, mostly reading, sometimes listening, and when I’m lucky, some speaking, i spend my nights locked in a room, lights turned off, staring at the ceiling, listening to the tick-tock of the clock, wondering, silently, waiting, perhaps, for somebody to strike a conversation, maybe,

I’m not exactly unhappy, world. I’m doing okay, I think we are all doing just okay, I think that is the problem, 

I’ve been trying to learn to keep my fears, suspicions, my confessions, my nobodies, nothing, everything, all to myself. It’s not my choice, I just, …

I’ll manage for a while, world. When I won’t, I’ll seek out for help again, until then, please try and realise , it is a thing, sadness is something that is in being. We don’t want it to last forever, do we? 

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time, time for us to start caring about every single of them million lights, maybe not be blind anymore, 

And maybe, help.

Somebody.

Someday.

I know I care for that one more light,

I hope,.Just hope,

That you do too.
Your

Words.

Calendar

Through

Bleaching the color out of my nails, my body,
Muting the voices of one, everyone,
Reminding the self to not despair, to drink, to breathe,
Smile a little at self’s sentiments,
Humming the way out of sorrows and sunsets,
Gazing at the full moon, pondering, meaning, wondering,
Writing,

I change the calendar to yet another morrow,
This is how it was a while back,
This is how it will be.

This is how it has always been.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

Hey! How you doing?
Oh, I am sorry, I’m not supposed to hit on the SANTA CLAUS, right? Sorry, my bad!
So, first of all, I know that you’re going to get this by the evening post, and i know you’re not very fond of it, and i’m awfully sorry about that, I missed the morning one just by few minutes, i had written this much before, but you know, the FRIENDS theme song was playing on the television and while i was clapping to the tune (by the way, precisely), I kinda missed the mail,
But it is okay right? the whole point of sending letters is to tell the person that you still believe in them and that you are thinking and missing them, this is what that is for me, I don’t really know what these ignorant mortals think its for, really!

Now Santa, don’t you frown, this is literally the first letter that i am writing to you, first letter in nineteen years of my existence, and i think you should, well, at least pretend to be excited about all that i have to say, now, don’t worry Santa, i know our wishes get even unreasonable when we grow up, I mean, unicorns can exist for one second, but world peace, ability to pay college tuition, all those impossible things being forced upon you, because you have got to adhere to you traditional norms, do your job, try and make everyone happier, fill in the quotas for world enthusiasm and global optimism rates, You’ve got to work so hard, don’t you Santa, and I don’t exactly think that this is an easy job, is it?

And does it not get lonely there at north pole, Santa? the elves would only come at the times of Easter and Christmas right? Do you know the language of polar bears then? Are you friends with them? And do you miss human company sometimes, Santa? Do you sometimes go to museums and ponder over Mona Lisa’s paintings or go to beaches to watch sunsets, Do you second-guess all you life choices like us mortals when you sit there, Santa? And do you sometimes find yourself contemplating over the colors of rainbow? Or I don’t know, do you sometimes have those nihilistic phases where you begin to question your entire being, do you sometimes try and justify your entire existence to yourself when the world revolving around you does not make sense anymore? Do you know how to bake cookies, Santa ( I know i don’t), and have you ever been to high school, Santa? And do you have somebody you could just talk to and stuff, Santa?
More importantly, How have you been, Santa? I know this is a mad world, nobody keeps tabs on others, nobody keeps tracks of people’s whereabouts, half¬† of the people are losing their hopes, other half are feeling they are losing themselves, it is all in a chaos,¬† but i do not know, Santa, i think it has always been like this, hasn’t it, The survivors slowly give in to the accepted ways of the world, and they go on, just like that, very few get to live at the end, very few, Santa, Oh, And how i wish i were one of them, Santa, but I am just a survivor myself, trying to make sense of this world, slowly, very slowly, giving myself in, breaking up, irrevocably,
Are you reading this Santa?
Don’t you feel scared too, sometimes? Wake up at 3 AM because it does not feel right, and i don’t know how’s the internet connection there Santa, and so i can just hope you have somebody like Coldplay to rely upon to fix you up,

I don’t want to ask you for anything, Santa, I never have, I am not exactly contended, Santa, but now i have more than eighty books to call my own, more than a hundred followers on instagram, and just enough people i can call my own, and just a little bit of hope Santa, which is enough to let me go over insurmountable risks and come victorious, I’m a survivor, Santa,
And even as i am not destined to make people happier like you do, Santa, I am going to try and make them feel un-abandoned, at least,

And don’t worry about all those Christmas duties, Santa,
I think that the world will soon realize that the binaries for naughty and nice, too, are overrated, So, take a break, Santa,
You’ve earned this,

Happy holidays, Santa,
May the force be with you,

And go easy on those Christmas cookies,

I’m believing in you so you don’t feel left out,
Believe in me, too,

Okay?

Okay!

 

the way we see

I find,

sunsets, road trips, ice-cream sandwiches, hill stations, stars, favorite quotations, over-stacked libraries, cheese-burst pizzas, mortal trivialities, fully charged devices, new year resolutions, fan mails, long letters, chilled soft drinks, oceans, possibilities, long forgotten promises, free hugs, the most beautiful of musings, Hogwarts’ letter, infinite fantasies, snowflakes, dearest desires, favorite notifications, notions of being wanted, summer breeze, impressions of affection, hunches of emotions, full moon nights, happy extravaganzas, the rising sun,

All in that one view of your sight,

So infinite it almost blinds mine (binds me to your soul as well)

I’m drowning,
In another reality, another universe,
I’m exploring,
Bit by bit, believing, realizing,
smiling to the self,

My metaphors are no match to that gaze, cannot muse upon enough, I’m hurting, healing, wondering,
How,
Just how, do you carry an entire universe in your eyes?

(And)
Why do you look at me like I carry it too?

 

Aftermath

I’m found in the aftermath,
of yet another apocalypse,
I’m the conclusion of all those morrows that break me down,
A metaphor for all those hidden expressions,
I’m the type of kind that drives even the most barbaric of them wolves mad,
The type of cruel that brings out the best in thee,

A result of those sleepless nights, hoping, expecting, shattering,
The dates with dark chocolates, black coffees, conversationalist nobodies,
Voids, Vacuums, Loneliness, Hatred, Anger, Vengeance,

I’m a human still,
Though no longer obsessed with the wizardry lessons, no longer trusting Augustus’ metaphors, no longer believing in forever, or soulmates, no longer clinging on to believing that it is I that shall, one day, change the world to a better place,
In mutual meetings, we no longer discuss our childhood dreams or things that keep us awake at night, no longer keeping the self to ourselves, no longer waiting for the nights to pass by after the 2 AM nightmares,

We’re crushing, over, for, breaking, building, trusting, hoping, hurting, trusting once again,
Hoping to like our choices,
We’re the aftermath of another apocalypse,
We’re adulting,

Growing,
though reluctantly, yet undeniably,
Slowly, irrevocably,
Undying, Rebirthing,

Growing,

Out of the aftermath,

Into the aftermath.

Words

I cannot provide for
(Your)
wacky wishes that only the wealthiest can fulfill,
obsession for order, too sober for my drunk n disorderly mind,
restlessness for thy radical reflection, rage and regret,
deceptive deals and false promises, or forcing a sad smile,
scattered pieces of who we used to be,

I account for,
Tearing you down at 2 AM,your first thought in the morning, midnight musings,favorite quotations, salted,sugary,sassy sarcasm, wounds,ointments,your nothing,your subject,object, everything,

A writer’s weakness, a poet’s power,

it’s only words and words are all I have, to take your heart away.