Let’s Connect

From the longest time I wanted to express my gratitude to all my readers who have showed their continued love and support to my writings. Since a past few months I have not felt the strongest of myself. Especially after my book release. It’s sad to witness people often not cherishing art as it shouldContinue reading “Let’s Connect”

The dialogue of life-

The dialogues of life,cold and tinymaking my bosom collapse at night,with white nakedness of velvet skyand the paper sniffing my skin,a hard yawn of the afternoon,a dark spot on the skin-The dialogue of lifeto my springs, to my sharp scandal of the eye.This it. This is she.A massive sea beneath the hand,beneath your mouth,a massiveContinue reading “The dialogue of life-“


I just published my poetry collection Crimson Skins on Amazon. Check it out. / The night has a soft pattern to dismantle my body< Quiet a as hushed wound with a flat curvature of a splitting fruit, my body is a temple to wounds, a temple to eat things that are fleshy. The night lampsContinue reading “Wounds”

How bad is my poetry?

I do not write today to hold the things leaking or to slip across the rooms with fever. No. I do not write to mourn the sunburn of humankind, the lips are already pale, i do not wish to write another metaphor too. Things that have way, will escape anyhow and so is my today’sContinue reading “How bad is my poetry?”

Of Sickness

of moment so despair a thing i learn about a crooked poetry my face a sudden elastic string. Of death these moments stich a corollary upon my backbone, stripes so painfully black. an ache to put metaphors with, Madness unleashed from the boundaries of my skull red, uneven, scathed, women in my room speak ofContinue reading “Of Sickness”

Empty Spaces

Empty spaces- blank as a curve blank as a quiet sky blank as a hawk blank a curvature on apex blank as a haunted corridor. Empty spaces- blank as a fallen sky blank as a single eye blank as a numb wound. Do you see such patterns of absolute pauses? You are as blank asContinue reading “Empty Spaces”

This Moment

  Inspired by- Eavan Boland A balcony. Brewed tea. Things are getting ready. a neighbour folds her dried out clothes. Another vendor strolls across the streets. Oranges and papayas , he screams. Stars and moon, things become raw at night. Opaque tunes of the clouds distorting, things pause as the sun sets in. This moment,Continue reading “This Moment”

The art of grief

  and all my body is a temple a temple or a place where i dedicate my sins to bloom into petals. A hung white cotton thread that stitches the lip, a mouth so corrosive, eyes tired of nothingness. The abstract silence sits upon my chest rummaging through my body. I feel nothing, nothing likeContinue reading “The art of grief”

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’sContinue reading “a/ Palette of cycle”

smell of death

this is to my property, to my poetry that sinks beneath the cave of obsolete synonyms a blob of blur pain, a vasectomy to the skin of dreams. There are things still left to comprehend for me, like the voices of women, in the kitchen in the lawns of hilly areas, a tree that speaksContinue reading “smell of death”