I am a little intoxicated tonight,

Subdued in spirits I am.

Sadness has left me long ago,

A certain sombre emptiness has taken its place.


I am quite bemused,

Surprised I am by this uninvited numbness.

I have not seen the daylight in days,

In the dungeons of my darkness I have stayed.


Yet I am satisfied,

For having felt more than ever before.

The devils of idleness has taken its course,

My blood has turned sour.


No soothing touch to cure me of my loneliness,

Here I am in loathsome yet whole.

The scars on my hands have long faded,

Just mirages of sadness adorn it’s place.


With the lilt of ol’ Chuck, my sole company;

Here I am sipping on stale whiskey.

Lost in this room as months turned to years,

I lay here, still. Happily forgotten, blissfully my own.






What a life we live?

Crammed by the baggage of the past

All we seek is merciful redemption,

Living in mythical realities, prisoner of expectations.


What a life we live?

In moments spent in anxious brooding.

In anticipation and hope we seek to live,

An illusion of a person we may never truly become.


I wish I were among the swarms of Mayflies,

Living and dying by the lilt of the night.

No hope I’d pretend to have, no memories holding me down;

I’d live a life free, as it were destined to be.


No more thoughts of oblivion would haunt me then,

No more of a future than the dawn of dusk I’d know.

I would hold no one close to my heart no more,

No one to cheer or break me so.


What a life I’d live, the life of the carefree Mayfly;

Sheltered by the slow ticking clock of Doom.

I’d seek for redemption none,

I’d be happy, for Mother Time would be brutal and fatally so.


I would live a life in these infinite moments,

Cherishing the day for being alive.

Come nightfall, I’d await sweet Death; humbly so.

Oh what a life I’d live; amidst the lives of mayflies.



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I believed to have found love,

Hiding amidst the crevices of my broken heart.

Some semblance of a feeling I sought,

Some emotion to get along.


Yet these dreams of Utopia,

Abundant in disappointment and loathing.

I find myself yet again,

At the precipice of utter ruin.


I fall not too hard into such emotions,

Mindful of the darkness that lay within.

I know not what it feels to be whole,

For seldom has love given me a hand to hold.


Such is the brevity of love,

Lust is all that masquerades, I suppose.

Yet in these metaphysical and transient moments,

I find myself hapless and bleeding.


Desensitised to the disappointment I am,

A lifeless and burdened stroll I indulge in.

Unshaken by pain, unbroken I remain;

Then again what more is there to break?


Just these tattered remains….


He looked at his weary hands,

The cracks had started to deepen.

Under the heat of the afternoon sun,

He foraged all the might he could find.


Yet his mind made no effort,

Tired and desolate was his soul.

As the day came to close,

He walked back to the same gloomy four walls.


Bitter soup and meagre bread in hand,

He sat by the window watching the world go by.

It had been years since he saw anything new,

The same wretched streets, the whores standing by the curb.


He loathed this low-life being,

Staying in such pathetic penury.

The dreams of an innocent child,

Thwarted by the fatalities of adolescence.


He once dreamed of a sweet place by the sea,

Watching the waves crash upon the shores.

The smell of salt basking under the sun,

The rattling of sea shells as the waves spat them out.


But all he heard were wails of disapproval and gore,

As fights broke out in the streets below.

The cacophonous lilt of machines kissing the earth,

Of his neighbours making love against the thin walls.


His eyes were dead and dazed,

At times numb to his own miserable being.

The soul tortured in silence; still he remained,

In anguish his heart would scream.


No one could hear him wail,

No one cared, no one ever truly does.

In this pretentious life of momentary bliss,

All that we are, prisoners of our own make-believe happiness.


Worse than death is to stay alive,

In this world full of blank stares.

Blank walls, blank hearts, blank souls;

Only to wake up to this blankness again.



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The earth beneath stays barren,

The crops have died and withered away.

A cloud of black passes me by,

Ashes I’d breathe as funeral pyres burn away.


Corpses half-eaten lay scattered,

Torn limbs adorn the streets.

Such vile imagery is this,

Life on earth hadn’t been this way before.


Children play among the carcasses,

Unmindful of the gore and pain.

They are used to this, he said;

As I pondered upon the desensitized man.


I remember these streets not too long,

Green, lush foliage greeted me.

Smiles and laughter welcomes me home,

Home? I wondered what that really meant.


I hear wails and cries far and loud,

Women clutching onto their infants warm.

How powerful is she who rides this storm strong?

A goddess amidst this misery.


I look for my mother in this wretched debris,

Among countless bodies I search for her visage.

Gruesome and grotesque are my travails,

Yet I soldier on searching for thee.


My eyes met her’s right then,

Lifeless and old she lay.

Beneath the dusty rubble she sleeps,

My beautiful mother! What have they done to thee?


She smiles no more, she ceases to look at me;

Say something, sweet mother! I scream.

But deafening silence is all I could feel.


Her lifeless body in my arms I lay,

No tears flow down my cheeks.

Stoic. I stand amid the wails,

Untouched by the heart’s painful agony.


I look up to the skies and wait,

As I hear the sounds of the fleet.

While men take shelter, run helter-skelter;

I stay with her, my mother in my arms.



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He looked on with wonder,

The veins of his hands had turned black.

His breath took its time to find release,

As he gasped and panted to survive.


Multitudinous tubes and machines abound,

He lay there betwixt the pale white walls.

He felt his body sink into death,

As the stench of Death came and heaved upon him.


Oh the humanity! Why must you be so cruel?

Taking the life of a boy didn’t live too long?

Why must I believe in your God?

Stripping away life so mercilessly?


As needles pierced through his veins,

He only wished to live a little long.

But poor boy! You don’t have much to see;

Save the mellow light hanging above thee.


I watched as they tore up his flesh,

As they made way for something sinister.

As veins turned into wires and circuits replaced the soul,

I watched on helplessly, watching the surgical agony of a lie.


He woke from his slumber,

Bewilderment set upon his face.

I saw tears of joy trickle down his face,

The joy of knowing, Time had set him free.


As his eyes moved to his arms, I saw no joy there;

He could not see the black in his veins no more.

They had taken what made him human,

Taken his bones and mechanised his soul.


I can still hear his screams,

As I walk down these corridors.

The wails of the Tin-man as he thrashed for a sign of life,

He found none there that day, none to see him as humanity slipped away.


Regrettable days I have aplenty,

None such harsh as that fateful day.

The day when Man decided to play God!



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Uncuff me, I beg of you;

Please let me hold my love.

I have been away for far too long,

Away from her breath, away from her touch.


I said nothing when you took me away,

I had no words when my circumstances tore my heart.

I seek not these material pleasures,

Uncuff me, dear sir; let me leave her with a final embrace.


Behind the cages I yearned for her,

To touch her, to kiss her, to love her again.

In these four walls I dreamed of her,

Of her face, I’d make portraits aplenty.


I don’t have much time now,

Unchain me, this one time I plead.

Forgive me for my impunity,

For love pays no heed to those that come in between.


I am beside myself. I know not any respite;

Release me from my pain, let me hold my love.

He took no heed, that unmerciful breed,

All I wanted and longed for taken from me;

Misery accompanies me to my grave.


There she remains, unbeknownst to my yearning,

My Gloria, I wish’d for you to see.

As my body swings cold, she’ll wail,

Inconsolably so till the bed of time.


I wish I could tell you my love,

Life goes on and so must you.

But as I lay dying. I was silenced much before,

For all I’d asked for was to hold my love.






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I see vast seas upon the horizon,

As I sit on my boat on the shore.

Aimless drifters I chance upon,

Looking for a dock to moor.


I seek not to find any further,

Further mysteries among this debris.

The thoughtless and broken dreams,

I collect in a jar left at sea.


I have no memories anymore,

They have set sail, adrift.

I have no precedents no more,

Of what once happened, of what I’d once known.


With each crashing wave I see,

I see my jar full of nostalgia adrift.

Flowing and ebbing to the edge of the world,

Where someday it’d sink.


Wherefore must I be now?

Now that I have none to see.

None to call and say I love thee,

Ambitions devoid, free from memories.


Familiar faces I’d see wave at me,

Familiar friendly faces these.

But seldom do I recollect the joy,

Seldom I feel the need to know thee.


I found myself shackled to dreams,

Dreams of the past I’d set free.

Yet I cast these memories afloat,

Just to forget what it meant to be me.




I like to think of certain moments in my life,

Of those times I enjoyed its beauty.

Of a time that seemed so blissful,

Of a time spent in harmony.


I wish some times I could relive those moments,

Leave this wretched being far behind.

I wish to feel that peace again,

For I’d want nothing more but the calmness I used to find.


I am saddened for most parts now,

For having seen too much too soon.

I have fought wanton battles I suppose,

For people in unmindful glee vex me too soon.


I know not why my heart bleeds so,

I know not why my soul screams.

For these endeavours seem futile to me now,

A life so wrought with blasphemy.


I heard them say, behind closed doors;

That I think too much of things so infinitesimally small.

Am I forsaken to be this mororse?

Or have I forgotten to feel happiness anymore?


It saddens me still to think,

To think that they feel so little of me.

My thoughts destructive to say the least,

My mind is astray, far beyond my reach.


Its not the strength I lack,

For I must be lying cold on this hard floor.

I suppose the struggle and strife have thus caught up,

My soul flinches no more, tears have dried long ago.


My musings are but a mockery,

Of an angry, young and tired soul.

The wails seem to fall on deaf ears,

I am alone with these thoughts.


Alone. I sit. On a journey along this dark winding roads.

Life. As they’d call it.

Irrelevant is my sorrow.


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