Hear my Podcast episode-as I talk about creativity.

Dear Readers, Hear me talk to the adventurous soul Petra on the recent episode for her Podcast that she calls “Erratic Hat Podcast”. I talk about creativity, the writing process and about publishing process etc. You can check out the podcast and her blog here. Also, I have changed my newsletter title now- it is… Continue reading Hear my Podcast episode-as I talk about creativity.

Soaked lips

these lips utter a pause of lipids time after after like a powdery cough. they bloom and shatter with details, wisdom of lush lights a fluid, a shade, a soft sunset resting on my backbone Each petal a dandelion of rays, imperative words upwards and sidewards, spitting veins dipped in blue ink blue sky…a blue… Continue reading Soaked lips

to defy time

i sit outside in the incensed moon, galloping my swallow droplets of fear, a knuckle breaking knuckle, what’s the fear of this cricket chirping? the modals of life. these hands are burrows of islands, small and large, a heightened hue of black spot. I sit and inhale the ambiguity here, the cracks on the white… Continue reading to defy time

A vintage truth

Photographs are blurred memories, of faked, chipped, plastered walls cracking like walnuts, eating its own body- Walls & bones dissolving inside the tooth of dust, memories can be fatal, if picturized or vandalised. All memories collide inside flaky cheeks producing abhorrence of stars, photographs stick like a parasite to your naked soul & exposes the… Continue reading A vintage truth

The Final Exit

The day I shed my skin, what will it be named and scored The table of mahogany, the scent of yellow stained old papers the blanket now white would be turned crisp golden Mosaic moments Transparent fragrance Cold evenings With time as a poking device on my cheekbones I would shed some pieces of satiation,… Continue reading The Final Exit


MVS What intrigues my eye the most is the sweetness and copious jelly myths of the world. A truth about death and beauty. Shapes genesis hoodwinked as orange sunsets, leveraging. I form petty diluted circles of observance hanging outwards from my malice thighs. A point of dissatisfaction. Itching of my eyelids emphasize that.I become a… Continue reading Aphorism


Alcohol on my newly-born skin, Do you see the patterns and the checks, the spotted wings? I lick this ferocious almond scales on my skin, counting the pores And I measure the breadth and length, obtaining details of details. The oak tree knows the dents and paints in the surreal landscape, where people romance The… Continue reading Evolution

Memories are just memories

For memories does not spark my romance with life Nor do they slip through the curtains of moisture. All these years, even when I was a teenager, I watered the dying roses and Orchids Flushing a spew of lightning and rock salt People became a mystery to me, leaving me stained Behind the sturdy brown… Continue reading Memories are just memories

The Art of This-Body

Helplessness running through the haze of clouds, Hands swinging, liquified skin and slaps of salt grains. I prick my soul, to check the shrieking the altitude coincides with a marriage ritual in the Altar, in the temple Between the moist lips The air halts, pause and my skin kisses my eyes Conundrum,    Abortion Throbbing… Continue reading The Art of This-Body


image- self The heights often scare me collapsing: with celestial bodies galvanizing, molesting only my skin crooked tree trunks, molten rocks, reside in the outer rim of my stomach The rituals die here each day, epileptic seizures, the concrete blood vessels begin to spit, spit and strive, my narrow palm opening begins to feel, spawling… Continue reading Memories

And then you shall die.

Embedded in the swamps of paroxysm where I see no constant paths or pavements chipped walls, chipped florals, chipped winter cascading all through my pale face in delusions, in fallacies I cracked the seeds of opulent hypocrisy of yours once I shall do it again, and again, and again and again. Till you split like… Continue reading And then you shall die.


People are like stagnate rubber elasticity with structures clinging our forehead, sweating cold sweat Impulsive, off-hand contusions of smiles Like eruption of S W O L L E N E A R L O B E S A segment of Paraffin wax coating the lights on my ceiling Mourning and screaming( inaudible noises, inaudible voices)… Continue reading Scars

This Moment

  I will explain the inaudible question today, The nerves of my brain, poke the inners of black skin, Time is boundless, the clock stares my power, Like the drunk stare of a beggar, This memory shall fade, this body shall become liquid, what shall remain is my shadow of beauty, I ponder the fidelity,… Continue reading This Moment

That Silence

I am walking on my own laced path with frills and throbbing water Discern the reality, Observe. Titanium clocks strike the moment of truth I am as soft as the morning baked bread, Eyes peeping into your glass carved twists, Sonder. Hallucination. Expectation. Ashes. Death shall come eventually, choking your doors and my windows What… Continue reading That Silence


Circulation of stars was more familiar during those sincere days when our bodies felt the lust, the smitten rose kiss, the dandelion slaps on our naked, yellow tongues. Telephones were intriguing, for addiction kills. Fingernails did not chap, broken things did mend. Inside the tubes of bars, ladies enjoyed with a brew of solace and… Continue reading Contrast

Sunday and Breakfast

Here, I speak the truth to you, the lies of occupation in appealing people’s sorrow and the green urban dirt— a ghastly deduction of smiles makes me a crooked vase of emptiness. Monday: oh, it pours the spikes in my stomach and churns the pancreas till the heart bleeds. Saturday: a monotonous tone of soils… Continue reading Sunday and Breakfast