My Dreamcatcher is a demon

The house is less home than it’s ever been, if anything it’s more distant, estranged, suffocating and what not. and as more and more people come in and go out of life as if they were waves, I do not know anymore what to do, I find my panic attacks on the bathroom floors increasing at a scaring rate, the people gradually decreasing, the percentage of nihilism in my existence ever increasing, and I don’t know anymore, I find the self in a mess, I don’t know what I am, who I am, what am I supposed to be, and I don’t know anymore, do I even want to be a part of this game anymore, do I, 

Do I,

I’ve been painting my facial expressions for as long as I can remember, and I’ve been trying to ignore things as hard as I can, and trying to accept the choices I made, forcing the self to believe that it has all been worth it, that it’ll be , 

But will it ?.

I want to go hone,.Where is my home

Where can I be myself where can I be happy where can I spend a whole day and not cry for no silly no serious reason, where do I not need coldplay to fix my broken pieces, where is my home, where would I be not afraid, 

Please,

I want to go home.

Is anybody alive,.

Anybody out there not dear,

Is anybody listening ?.

My dreams are distorting, spirit is crashing, I can’t seem to find a way out, none, cannot bring myself to care anymore,

Does anybody have the time to help

Can you take me home?

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Vocabulary

All I want to do is lie down and stare at the blank ceiling wondering over the unending misery this burden of existence feels like, there are little hurricane of fury and fear hovering inside of me, and everything that seemed possible and happy and just within reach seems like a distant dream, it’s an unpredictable chaos, the future, a haunting horror, the past, a monotonous torture, the present,
There’s no escape from the thoughts, the fears, the guilt, the sadness doesn’t find a way out, the things that hide in me come out again, words feel like awkward efforts to immortalise the self, dreams- distorted illusions of what is never to happen, Maybe we’re all mad here, maybe the self is insane,
It’s troubling, inescapable, almost inexplicable, and somehow,

And for the very first time since I remember, my mortal vocabulary too is at a loss. 

Maybe 

I revel in Shakespearean sonnets, soar over the possibilities of witchcraft and wizardry, distract the self from grim realities of everyday life, interrupt in self-indulgent fantasies,

You’ll find me scribbling something at the corner seats of pizza joints, clicking duck-face selfie with cappuccinos, lost completely in the world of words even as I travel thy world, have mastered the art of disguise, nailing those fake candids, fake laughter, painting that smile,

More often, I’m found looking fondly at my little library, sniffing the pages of my Tales of Beedle the Bard, sobbing over bigger infinities, looking for Alaska all the way through Paper towns, singing Titanium in closed rooms, swinging over the tunes of Sheeran, obsessing over incorrect use of language, fretting over blue ticks,empty inboxes, a hundred percent battery, I’m as fragile as glass,  rely on Coldplay to fix my broken pieces, always wondering why are Angry Birds so furious after all, trying to seize moments, freeze time, hoping to dominate thy muggle world,

My thoughts are darker than your Kohl, fantasies glossier than your nail color, and even as you’re (sometimes) bitter than my over-caffeinated drinks, I find myself steady in this alley they call life,

So, I flash my “close-up” smile with those Snapchat filters, trying to untangle both my curls and life, being a hypocrite, hurting, healing, swearing and sobbing through life, dancing over joys you call trivial, (secretly crushing over Farhan Akhtar), going insane, day by day, word by word, haunted by heartbreaks, endless regrets, infinite ‘what ifs’, 

Counting on the lights to guide me home, trusting the forces to shoot me down, believing in your love to keep me alive, 

I’m vulnerable, trusting, hanging on to the last thread of hope, Surrendering my soul to you, I’m readying myself for anything and everything

Yet another morrow ends, darkness dawns, birthing millions of stars,
Hovering over us as infinite possibilities,

Maybe, everything is possible. 🌸

Crack-up

In the midst of the chaotic indictments, accusations to break moral codes, laws, assurances, 
The liabilities to the moonless nights, foggy mornings, starry evenings,
The faults in our stars, the ache in our hearts, the full stops, overdose of painkillers, the shuddering silence, unrequited everything, forced laughter, stupidity of the self, souls who don’t want anything to do with thee,

I don’t know,
If this world,If these words,
Everything we carry on our shoulders,
Ever wanted to be a part of this puzzle,
Was it really meant for us to live in?

Here I am (again), Adams

Dearest Adams,

 I cannot recall when was it when I heard your first vocal, but I do remember how it went, and for a middle school child still struggling to make peace with a then-foreign language, the song had me on top of the world, and even as I was still in school, and the concept of colleges or graduating or job or lives in general, seemed but a distant dream, there was something, something in the summer of 69, something which made my head bang and feet move everytime I heard the familiar tunes, Jimmy quitting, Judy getting married, and you, slowly realising that it all won’t last forever, after all, That is the first song I heard in that language, followed only by the amazing backstreet boys, 
And it was then, when your were probably just fifty or something, you had earned another fan in the form of a little eleven year old who believe (d) in magic, and probably million others who not only acknowledged, but in fact, understood what you were trying to say all that while, 
And after all this while, Adams, loneliness became a friend to my elder self, and as my self slowly became numb, and surrendered itself to Linkin Park, Taylor, Coldplay and eventually settled at Sheeran, there never has come a time when I don’t find myself humming to any of your random verses, 
And you know, Adams, my love and fangirling for you has never hit a bump, much like many of the Masters of world of words as you, it has just grown more, and even as a few years back, when my Metallica geek friend got myself acquainted to the eroticism present in many of your songs, the love, the awe, the wonder for them has never wavered, and every time I hear someone with a ringtone of ‘here I am’ I smile and congratulate them on a good, nay, amazing taste in music.

Call me crazy, Adams, but I have spent a long time judging people on the basis of the art that heals their heart, the art that makes them feel, the art that turns them back to the vulnerable, trusting and fragile creatures that humans are, 
And I, Adams, am simply glad that my type of art has you, 

A gem, a true piece of gem,

And, 
In a world filled with despacito and swalla, All i wish to do is come back to you on the cloud number nine. 

And not even Ed driving at ninty, towards the castle on the hill can do what the ‘best days of your life’ do,

Happy fifty-eighth birthday, Adams,
And Thank you for being what you are, 

And all i know is, that i was not just dreaming, and that the world would never have been the same had i never found your cassettes in the old garage,
And i’m just thinking out loud,
But I know that,
when i’ll be standing on my mama’s porch, knowing, that it won’t last forever, I’ll still let somebody hold my hand, or maybe i’ll just try and hold a piece of the present present in front of me, or as Ed puts it, where our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken, and time’s forever frozen and still,
And whatever’ll come, it’ll be alright,
..
There ain’ no place that i’d rather be,
And because of you,
Dearest,
I’ll just sit,
And wait,

And watch the world go blind 💕

Where am I 

In,
Locked doors, dim-lit rooms, lonely corridors, empty classrooms,
Dark skies, well-stacked libraries, abandoned corners, silent conversations, dubious escapes, broken hearts, ignorance, expectations, struggles of affection,
Formal handshakes, casual hugs, stolen glances, forced smiles, panic attacks, moments of thinking over and over, 
I’ve been trying to find myself,

In the same,

I fear,

I’ve lost myself.