What might become of this

Is it worth it?

Blundering along the wayward track where streams run dry

The relentless pounding tears rickety tracks apart
Wrenching fragile tendons from their sockets
The palette lingers, drawn straight out from the gut,
Lying limp in fractured ghastly messes
Limbs dangle loosely from their sore hinges
Spilling out from the cold asylum
Gallons of bitter seams roar, echoing rapid undercurrents
Too many violent emotions within

Do you see, the fire and brimstone

Rusty dew crystallized by clouds of grey vapor
Stinging the gentle flesh till it hardens
Spiralling through an empty gut
before it finds a place-

Lodged within a twisted abyss of crimson

Convulsions pummeled by grotesque heaves
Choking throbs

I see them chiseling at the monstrous might
Of a hardened stone
Rivers of love, relentless pleas,

Fervent in their decries
Sullen, quiet futility
Bleeds into the silence
They couldn’t thaw the reams of morphine
Who hath done their nefarious bidding
Antipathy caving in
Frozen in deafening discordance

Hardened stone
Cold peaks that never sparkle
The glaciers that never melt
It blazes in the sultry heat

And it burns and burns
From the inside out
To its own end



Dead knots
Frayed ends still crisp from damp tear gas
The fragility they’ve bound
The wounds they’ve lashed
into the flesh, gnawed
ripped open to bear

Now dead ends remain taut in obstinate
Born into the world- of human touch-
iron clamps dripping with vile blackness
barbs to ruins
– i need to- find-

Bitterest gall softened by silence
A revelation- entrenched in a maddness born of a
disillusionment of my own
my madness
my revelation- raw with euphoria
So fragile, so sweet
I’ve seen, weep for me
And I, for this transcendent treasure
so human

Fervently i’ve prayed
enraptured by a thousand spells-
of this that i’ve yearned to know


Howling roosters, crooked spines
Soft whispers trickle into gulfs in rapid fires
Brushing against the rusty enclosure
Where sawdust pelts the broken vessles
Surging the wrath of screaming colors
This scarlet A that strides in with pride
Making a nest to shrivel where
Till then we pray for the revitalizing change
Heads bowed, in gowns of shame
Stars of ignominy cast our name in crippled illegibility
Enmeshed cries cling onto the dreary tenderness of comfort
And the deadly spell of regression
To be abandoned
The acrimony of a tainted past that might be obliterated
For renewal and grace


Now we stand strong

This poem will always hit close to home. It might not be one of my best works, others might not even call it poetry- but the story is transcendent.

I might be on a roll with writing again, I’m not too sure. I finally managed to channel my sentiments through this piece; it definitely might not be one of my best work, but it is one of the rawest pieces.

Maybe, just maybe
This is what it is supposed to be
to channel the core of your existence
for the sake of someone, too precious
Poetry that glows in second sight
Binds us through the years of light

And now, for every ounce you’ve poured out,
it baffles me still
The way our tale seemed to almost
unravel, in a catastrophic mess.
That night.

Bitter tendrils hurled themselves towards a frame of fragility,
I had spent months chiseling with diamonds and gold
But that too, eroded.
The harshness spiraled through the ghastly din
and there I felt trembling,
That drew back its fangs
Piercing glares that bore into my soul
Brandishing blades
Into the heart that pounded for me
It hurt

The walls that you built to protect me
These 17 years of toiling
The silence that screamed into the noise
For the first time
I didn’t tremble alone
And I couldn’t allow you to, either.

I knew what I couldn’t deny
So I spoke that which I knew
There has never been a barricade between us,
And i know that there never will be
Because your presence is transcendent
As with every bit that you’ve lavished on me.

Maybe its time to tear down those walls
Victory never stood with the other
And now, we bear the brunt
Gaping wounds that will continue to bleed,
for as long as it seems sound
Beings with second sight can, too
Be peacemakers
We might abandon our vessels,
Now we stand strong.

Once upon a time

For twelve plus three, it seems
Crippled by the haunting vices
Locked away in the vault that housed the cauldron
Where toxins billow shades of indigo
Beasts of monstrosity bare scarlet fangs
Sinking rusty knives into the blinding depths of altruism
Plunging jagged edges as far as they might go
The pulses softened and slowed
The beating drowned out by the shrill scream of a pale figure
Hooded, to mask a fragile frame
A mess of blackened blood  pulsates through brown capillaries
Rancid streams of agony turned into unfeeling animosity
Carving a hollow husk of ignorance to pour harsh pestilence
Red tinged gazes, unblinking scrutiny
Smite the foe, spare the rod
Long consonants thread the fine line
Streams in the hour glass- run dry
Monstrosity craves the eke of your existence
Your presence alone- the bane of its existence
He who dwells in vulnerability,
Feasting on scalding bowls of agony
A sinner casts her weary eyes
Hoarse cries and muffled melancholic cries to the heavens
A lift on the scaffold of shame
In the name of love
Pronounced my name

Frostbite in the Ice Age

Inimitable rattling within the brittle jar
Restless pounding of icy cold fists that suffer
Burned from the pounding
Shriveled scabs from ancient frost bites
Shivering at the wrath of the fear turned monstrosity
The seal of retribution for
Compassion and vulnerability
Solitude and the guise of maturity, or lack there of

They cry for silence as the ticker-tape unravels its ends
Observing with the rawness that fills their darkened blood
The crimson brews and slips away
In the name of inhaling fortitude into the core of their being
Repudiating the jarring hisses and the toxic scars
Still, they watch from the hollow sockets
Praying for their paltry human capacity to languish
For solipsistic visions to dwindle into sinner’s night
Braving themselves for the battles when
Corroded ends give into friction
As the gawp at the emptiness and all that’s left of their product

“All these years you’ve lived but you’ve never had a life” “So live”(inspired by A Streetcar Named Desire)

All these facades will collapse in time
That trails beneath the old grim borders
Maturity will plod along another deserted path
A lonely lane where it’s safe to wonder
I’ll pick up another cloak while waiting for
The sinister warmth that lets me know when its safe to tremble and weep and let it all go
An old rugged road paved for lost souls to wonder
Those caught in the middle
When their nerves choose to bury themselves before it’s time for us to go

Then, comes the struggle to tap on numbed senses
My only means of deciphering foreign ages
And ages I’ve never wandered thanks to
Circumstances thrust you into the core of the screaming vortex
The painful humming that dictates that the age of
17 comes after 14,

I’ve heard this whimpering that houses crag eons
My crag eons, the ones I’ve been forced to “give”
Just because.
But this sickening familiarity calls me to my senses each time
A stinging tight slap that threatens and lingers
As with Blanche’s Varsouviana, and so many other dark sinister polkas
But this rambling is all I have left to call my own
Feel free to muse at my unbridled sanity
It’s sad but i know the pounding will rein, the vehement bellowing will follow
These echos will twist themselves into the bane of my existence

A storm brewed within

A parched heap of desert sand collapses into fine grains
She tugged at the edges of her satin scarf
Flattening out the creases which glazed the crinkled edges
As if that might silence the rattling barrels overhead
As if it might heal the fatal abrasions
A precious emblem, a sanctuary of solace and refuge
Housed a piece of her persona
Rawness in the name of sincerity and truth
Unfortunately, mistaken as a false sense of solidarity
And it bleeds because, she too,
she bleeds for truth.

Age of – degrees celcius

If you’ve been keeping abreast with the recent reports, there’s been some talk about the possibility of bringing the Wooly Mammoth back by reconstructing its entire DNA Sequence (Yay for Restriction Fragment Length Polymorphism! Then again, the idea of creationism holds a multitude of dangers, no matter how promising and fascinating it sounds)
You’ve casted an irreversible spell
You’ve injected a gene into a vector
You’ve measured your prospects and played the ‘risk’ card
You’ve crafted a beast within an empty vessel
The vector can’t house amplification


Just a year ago you approved of a creation
Carved from carbon residue
A breed of homosepian molded
To satiate a system crafted for an other
And much like the extinct species
It needs to thrive on a land
where it shan’t be shunned and
where it has companions
where it shall embrace individuality for everything it has to offer

Now i find, you,
Trying to steer yourself out of the abyss
The mess of a matrix
Towards the field of the vast, dangerous unknowns
To embrace and utilize what’s left of your concoction
Glaciers melt into stagnant pools of boiling mud banks
Pools of weed lay strewn
Withered, bitter residues, charred
Trample on the toiled canvas

I said I’d slog like a clockwork mouse ;
Anything for you to help others to embrace you name
And I’d do so much as to get you on the news
Your ‘inherent’ proprietary rights and go even further too

But the restless fear stirs and rises from deep within me for
I’ve known it since then
That if you were to replicate a beast you couldn’t handle once more
Truly, In this race
Your investments, will falter
Your concoction will live just to perish once more
You’ve crafted death from a carcass to empower death once more
You might never emerge victorious

*Update: I recently visited the National History Museum (London) to find that the taxidermy sample of the Woolly Mammoth has been removed during to research purposes. It was disappointing (just because I’m one of those people who falls head over heels w the idea of admiring a taxidermy woolly mammoth lmao) and exciting at the same time.