How many times do I shift my bodily postures? from a room so cold, so absolute, to a room full of hopes. There is a never -ending system of dying things in here. I move like a ‘banjaran’ wishing for dead leaves, painted auburn sky sunlight hitting my pale, loose skin, I move to hide… Continue reading Countless

On Dreams

Night breaks apart like thousand skies on Earth with a hint of mauvish whisper the whisper spills everywhere enveloping things around me. Dreams create illusion of being permanent of sticking to the odd times with a mayhem stuck to the air. You would wish to sit and digest each tiny aspect of dreams with a… Continue reading On Dreams

a/ Palette of cycle

What becomes out of a light that perches on the shade? A coma or a complete sentence? Does a wound heal if exposd to a skin’s love? What becomes of a translucent onion that can not be further minced? A life comes with a moment of quietness through the lens of wet eye. A doctor’s… Continue reading a/ Palette of cycle


Tara remembers her doings. The pale kitchen sink speaking of chipped dreams, tectonic thighs of fidgeting swamp. Her lipstick is all nude today. Nude as the man of her dreams, saliva draped carefully between the folds of her lips. And her purse sliding between her perfect round bosom. She wears sunrise as her makeup, with… Continue reading Tara

nights that talk of you

A mesh of poetry ascends in my scalp of lights the place punctured by your visits often, in my nocturnal nights of anxiety and suicides. You step on to my body, peeling layers of SCARS\ and you watched POETRY\ C A S C A D I N G in molten, mountain flush of hours. I… Continue reading nights that talk of you

Spotting and Observing

Today was one such day when I took my seizure pills and went to sleep in the darkest of crisp floors of dreams and nightmares with my cigarettes still burning, mouth full of water In the turbid walks of women’s lane, a niche of mirrored talks happened with a soul crooked and cracked Vinegar lips… Continue reading Spotting and Observing


Today, my writing is divine. With the savage to sink myself in words, I am invincible. Language embellishes me like wrapping petals of roses to the moon. I know my heartbeat today, rapturous, melancholic like almond skin. I feel the bruises not the scars for scars are permanent ink. I remember that sad lady lying… Continue reading Words

Coltish Home

    My wax finger slithers across your extolling caricature In the Elan black eyes you carry, sun-baked secrets. Like the winter chills and pepper on thighs cascading in the solitaire eyes of the mountain, I see your lips Your smooth, divine lips uttering the catastrophic formulation Like obeisance of your footsteps in the haze of… Continue reading Coltish Home

A place like this

The epitome of peach shaped markings, Defining the extended fields of valour and hope, Drooling in my walnut bones, Mingling in my solitary ebb, Lies inside a place where my mother Wakes me up from a cascading nightmare. To the jubilant staircase of rainbow meadows, To catch an intrepid molecule of a butterfly Then to… Continue reading A place like this