Maybe you and I are dead,
Stranger!
We are dead indeed,
The world has stopped breaking into wars
And the pretty don't lie anymore,
You and I are dead;
But I ever never felt this love stronger
Than when we are together in our graves.

I'll probably call it sickness,
sickness of the mind,
the wrath of terrible timings,

I freaked out at escapades,
kind of a terrible night,
we are two people,

We don't want each other in our sights.

I am sick of it kindly,
Good sir, I will shapeshift into your complaints
I will be invisible and unsociable and kind of insane.

These pills aren't doing me any good
They are cheap from the local goodwill
They are made of rainbows and **** stained thoughts
And still I swallow them gladly.

I wonder how in a forest fire,
I walk with naked arms,
Take a spin,
give me a pill
Let me fight with your naked guns.

I wonder if it is normal for people to pass through a stage where the obvious is the content by which we spill tears every day or that our lives and eyes come to a total zero. There is no hope for recovery and you know that this is the most horrible phase to be stuck in. There is no movement for the future or any optimistic approaches to be happy or be better in the nearing future. Life is tough and i have to accept it at this point. I know that there are various kinds of depression which we face everyday. There is the economical one, and also people are healthwise improper due to which they lead a very uneasy life. But there is the thing about mental trauma. Mental trauma kills everything on the inside. It's like a ******* acid truck burning everything inside you. There is no lead forward, there is no happiness beyond and lastly even if you cry for help, no one will be beside you. You stand alone. You are alone and you have to face all of this by yourself. If you want to **** yourself, you have to cut your veins, there won't be anybody beside you.
I hope i go to a pretty world next life.
I really hope so.

Do you ever wonder whether you are sleeping
With the wrong person on the right side of the bed
Tossing, turning, telling lies
Pretending to be alive when you are dead
Pretending to paint love in red
Do you ever wonder if she is not the one to love
But you don't like things rough
So you let go and pretend it's alright
She loves me, let me hug her,
But for me, it's a might
You ever come across lovers
Whom you aren't meant to be with
Scared to speak loud
Or open eyes to feel it
Do you ever wonder
Why you lie to yourself
Do you ever wonder

On a summer's night,
I killed you.
I panicked, and cried
And picked up the telephone.
"Hello, I killed a man,
He is dead, I could have ran
But I love him and I'm bold,
His scones and tea have turned cold;
In the drawing room carpet he lay,
As if asleep like yesterday,
I took a knife and stabbed him thrice
His favourite food was curry and rice;
He came back home everyday at three
He would rush into my arms and hug me
He kept my picture on display
And smiled at me everyday,
I stabbed him thrice and shot him twice
And held his body and cried all night
I proved to be a killer this time
Instead of being a loving wife;
Arrest me and take my life"

"Ma'am I'm sorry but you husband is gone
It has been 10 years and forlorn,
It was the rain when you came to me
And he was lying beneath the tree,
A car had hit him a night on May
I remember everything clear as day
His love hasn't set you free,
You are delusional,
Can't you see?"

It was tall and lean and my mind
Unravelled between the halogen and hollowness
Of something incapable where the T.V. won't scream
Fake ads and mourning of dead people
whereas dead people held novice feelings and promises
to reach on and on and on about telling lies
to me and on and on and on and on
Telling lies to me for lies are what i breadth the second
A bullet in a ****** scene where i wipe off the screen

I wipe my blood
I wipe my evidence

Last Christmas,
I shot myself.

soft fur

methyl scented grass

little black eyes scampered

bit off the ends

chewed and then

was shot dead

soft fur

now red.

I'd like to pack my suitcase
For the night
And drift away
In the high sky.

I'd like to ask who are we or
Who am I
When the northern wind blows over the sea

I'd like to ask what we are going to be
Whether fifty or free,
I'd like to lie on the softest grass
Under the skies
For an eternity.

I hope I let go of you someday
I hope it isn't about forgiveness anymore
I hope I know what to say
I hope I wouldn't want you standing near my door

There is always a fear
There is always a dark space
There is always someone I love
I just assure myself that it's a bad day

Sometimes it's empty
Sometimes it's numb
Sometimes it's painful
Sometimes i guess I'm just dumb

It's been long
And i tell myself
Sometimes life offers you the best,
But just sometimes,
It doesn't go well.

My Japanese house is made of four walls,
North East with Kita
And South West with Tsurugi,

I painted my walls with nail chips that I bought from my land,
It's inhabited with skunk tails and sesame seeds,
I paint my walls for five scores and ten.

I bring unto my love into this foreign land,
splendour with Shobu and Lily,

I lie in peace and quiet as I stare at my Japanese walls.
The paint crumbles and falls upon me.

Merciless to attempts of bearing your heart,
He dressed up in flowery carnations
Truest of the fidelity, winter grabbed your hand
A mock of self esteem, history taught Athenian women
To be bold and ruthless

He thought Sunday would be a bloodbath,
By Monday you'd sleep in your bed
Athenian women wear bricks on their genitalia
It is hard to summon love

A little dance and **!

If it had to be a Monday morning
where children aren't slaughtered with rendezvous of competitive parents fighting fugitive,
And Sunday would be left behind
No Emily! Monday is for love making

Might I dance the trojan horse
And sneak into your heart,

Manners hath not maketh man.

I'm sorry, but I am terribly ****** up.

I'll try to mend things and smell your hair occasionally
I'll try to wipe medicines and love letters off your turquoise stained coffee shirt;

I'll even apologize and mend what's mine
I'll bare my heart to you,
I'll bare my heart to you
My dear Valentine.

Can someone inspire me
Can someone inspire me
Can someone inspire me

Can someone love me
Can someone inspire me
Can someone inspire me

Can someone **** me
Can someone **** me
Can someone **** me

I have a crazy *** appeal,
My fruit of time is in-between conscience thoughts and no protection

My threats of sanity lie between lust and your timeless ticks of sweat as they drip from friendly lines of maturity and trust
Whom should I trust?
Am I your friend?
I have no friends

I chew the base of my thumb like you lick the insides of my brain,
Another worldly combustion I feel nonetheless to my ulterior motives
As I ride on your pink pony of sweet faith,
My sunsets drip on your flesh,

My love is like a fly sitting on your neck,
licking off sweat
As you close your eyes and tilt your hair,

My boom breaks into a million Constellations

I left an umbrella at the bus stop
The umbrella was yellow and grey
It had broad stripes on either sides
It was used during rain and a sunny day

The umbrella was left alone,
Along came a dog with a bone
And in the ardent summers of may
Beside the umbrella it lay;

A day later, A man came with his wife
She looked at the umbrella and thought it was pretty nice
They waited for the bus to arrive,
But the umbrella lay still at the side

It was one day when I came back again
And saw the umbrella held it's place,
It's handle was broke and filled with grease
It was filled with holes, yet stood with ease
It fell on the ground
When it was pushed by my little niece
My umbrella was abandoned again,
It had gone weary and with rusty chains.

Sometimes you reach out to grab the moon;
Only to realise, it is a false satellite screen.

It is made of wood
You bend and pinch
your eyes, your head
Your notes are in the sink.

A sharp pencil, an inkblot
a page, few books maybe
You lie down and draw a face
And rub it off "it's crazy"

And you will grow 60
with your desk
bend your head down
like the rest

So before you do
You need to ask

"Can you fly?"
"I want to fly."

papers are one dollar each!
Sentiments are beyond reach!
My pet dog seems to be busy scraping of dead meat off the ground
Smoke and gold, a melancholy!
The honorary debate between mistrust and a dead fetus!
The wait for a pension which serves blood and redemption
Who would have thought that drama was scarred on my *******!
As to who stabs whom,
THE DEAD IS THE DEAD *******
TRY TO BREATHE YOU INCESSANT FOOL
THE LINES OF LOVE!
Tell me more of your fables
full of
LIES, LIES AND LIES!

lies between cyanide and methane,
Geographically non-traceable

Has no life
Neither tropical favourites

Soil is like an angry ****
Bears no hills

Rumours run true,
men have killed themselves
Looted
Shaved

It serves as an empty pain,
It bears my name.

Welcome unto,
No Man's land.

I keep bowing down to you,
You are mine to keep.

It's time I'd forget that
And wipe my tears and go to sleep;
I'd find somebody else

I blink and I deceive.

I remember when I met you back in winter
It was snowing outside and really cool,
I meant to send postcards through the summer,
I wanted to hand you the moon;

I remember every book that you were reading,
You face glowed like crystal through the noon,
I'll love you forever, my lovely,

I'll hang myself really soon.

In this vast sky and land of green,

I look for orange skies it seems

In midst of pain and sudden grey

I am an unwelcome home to stay;

In death of you and your ghost it seems

I still search for orange dreams


In dusk I find the lies and truth
I find orange skies when I think of you

She walked into a room to find
butterflies that their owners had left behind

They were dead and scattered around;

She fell on the floor and shut her eyes

he ripped her head and stabbed her twice,



She was left to die
In a room full of butterflies.

There are puddles near my house,
Puddles near my heart

You have got to be an artist
You have filled my life with art

I will sunshine you with love,
Don't leave me alone my lovely,

I will rest in peace
When I'll share an umbrella with you.

Can I share an umbrella with you?

Tell me my lovely,
I have hid my pain with failed attempts and perfumes.

After hours, when I'm home
With less than a man, a dog, maybe a gnome;
I'd like to think that memories kept me alive
But alas! it was the lies,
If I smoke any of those e-cigars,
I might as well choke when I look at the sky
Or she who had no friends,
Or she who met her end;
She who lied about poetry to win his love,
Now pushing e-cigarettes through her spine;

I was alone, Alone as I grew up
I poured my own whisky, I shared my own cup,
I'm Fine, I'm sorry,
I'm alive, and the lies
And the lies piled up like old report cards
Whom did I marry for life?
I'm a pathological liar in disguise;

You said I looked like a painting, I gleamed!
Edward Munch drew me, I screamed.

I ensambled five Mediterranean men in a vase,
I cut their limbs and the aura it spilled;

Limbless and lifeless they looked pretty in my vase,
I gathered them from the valleys in the south,
And chopped their heads off.

Mom, help me
Help me please
There is a monster
In the bed beneath

I cannot understand the world
They think I'm lying
Help me please!

Tell them that the sky is purple
Tell them, that the world is dark
It scares me!

I tell them I see ghosts!
I see them crawling in my headspace
They whisper death in my ears
They show me new ways!

I'm not an addict, i have seen people leave
They made me cry mom
They lied to me, please believe!

Mom, hold me at night
I want to see the stars
I want to see pretty pictures in your eyes

I try to clean my eyes
I clean them everyday

I try to breathe but they stare at me in the night

Mom, please love me
Please love me

I want to put an end to this fight.

It's not fair
I have loved you immeasurably
I have loved you too much,
I have loved you every time you took my name,
I have loved you even when you left
I have loved you when everybody else left,
I have loved every part of you.
I have loved you even when my heart could bear no more
I have loved you even when there were no fireworks when you felt low and down
I have loved you when you turned to look at me and your eyes sparkled with life
I have fought against slavery
But I'm bound forever.

Release me never.
Thank you for loving me.

There is a town sir,
It has grown feeble and old,
It has lanes and dreams
That had liquor in them when it sold;
And a red house
That beats like a hurricane
And a woman with pearl locks
Has the door engraved with her name;

She had left sir,
The house had caught fire
I am in search of a fire marshal,

I am no liar.

Today I smoked *** and looked at the sky,
My mind slowly went to Neverland
Somewhere between never it's gonna be,
Neverland, never who,
I would never find people who are true,
I went to the pit of the universe and thought
About a mermaid who swam like me
She got dumped in the sand
And was forced to turn into a man under the tree,
To wake up with a warm cup of tea
Who are you
And am I me,
Whoever thought that memories weren't easy
It isn't dear man,
I will cry and tell you
Who can be
And who can't
You aren't part of my memory
Why are you in black and white
You seem sad and important
But I have no place for you in my life
I could cry and mop and compare my trigger
With a sad friend
But who has got time for friends
Or for people who use you like  a bag of ****
Whom are you living for
Grow up, men aren't born with wings
I am about to tell you to be a man and go get drunk,
You aren't a christmas holiday, your life isn't fun
I am gonna trigger a bullet young man,
I am sorry that I couldn't make it through
If I feed my brain a bullet
And make it through the end,
Maybe in the next life,
We could be friends.

what is your religion i asked Jesus
He said command of life
I asked Ram, the prophet and chronicles of brave
They said they died under a knife
I asked the beggar whom he worships
Money and a certain flower
Religion is a questionable thought
which changes by every hour
What is a relic i ask
what is God
what is power
whom to worship
whom to kneel to
what is religion
what is a blind man's idol

There was an Indian tale,
About the Indian sap,
Delicately wounded, delicately jabbed,
precariously tender, ostentatious sad
She was the Indian child of doom,
Her poetry was bitter and bad.

She wrote poems about the famine,
the *** of the crazy and the kind,
Often wrote about dreamers and pirates
And of the ill of the mind

Years and years have gone through,
She has yearned for the Odyssey of the great,
But all she wrote was the depression,
the depth, the sorrows and the hate.

She had written about the men
She had not known about,
She forgot their names, Mike or Rick
Or about the one that was stout

Well, what about the one that had hurt you,
Oh wait, all of them did,
This wasn't a circus or a mayhem
Or a story or a gist

She wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote
Till she could write no more
She realized she never knew herself
She was alone on the dance floor.

Snow has gathered and it's time to go
I wonder whom I'll chase
I have packed my bags for the holidays
But home is a person, not a place.

Into a lunatic's drive,
I disheveled my car
It was made of melons, pineapple and figs
And an apple fish head ****
It has dead flies
Into the fiery lake, my Lucifer lives in a monastery
I rotate my cross
I hood my disguise,

My lucifer is made out of lies.

I'll be waiting with dead roses
In a little horse and prim
White roses are sinful
And I ain't your kin
I'll be calling out to you
When it's dark and grey
I hope you come back home
And make love to your prey
I hope you come back home
And love me everyday.

You keep eating melons like you're kissing me,
You curl you lips on it like you are missing me

And I stare as the light falls on your eyes,
Everyday it's like a lullaby;

I may have God on my side to feel your skin,
You are an art of Van Gogh to begin with

I know I lie when I say that you are mine,

Into your eyes
It's a disguise, in the sea and the stars
With every thunderstorm I rush into your arms
Then I wake up next to you and you were never mine,

It's a lie, you're by his side.

How hurt are you,
Brother how hurt are you.

Are you tired of your fruitless attempt of falling love
And chasing sunsets,
How hurt are you.

Who hurt you brother?
Who hurt you?

Was it a pile of rubble
Or the midnight train,
Who hurt you?

Are you dead brother,
Are you dead?

You have died a thousand times in your heart
And shot a bullet through your head.

My grey hair and seventy,
I have falsely grown my teeth,
I stand naked under city lights
I have cancer in my knees;

My wrinkled torso and mid-day job
Put me in my grave with bore
I remember the days I had little money,
Grades in my 10th grade I had scored;

I feel alive today under city lights
Once again I have been born
Before I die, my eyes should see the city lights
Instead of grass in the lawn.

I want to sit in a bathtub and cry
And sniff the steam and the pain
And the meanders and harrowing clean snip snap of my veins

I'd submerge myself into a land of pirates and ships where limits are endless and I sniff the steam from the engine's gate

Only to see that there is water beneath

My feet is dry and I submerge to endless breath and void
My Skin defeats the straight of sin and I am left with no choice.

My bathtub is the ocean floor and fishes gleam and glow
My childhood is crying next door
And I, am no more.

Who are we,
Are we who we say we are
Are we the friends we pretend to be
Are we the lovers we fake at night
Are we the people we promise and then lie

Who am I,
But an illusion,
Lost in time
Forevermore,
Blind, and in love.

I'm tired Carlie,
This marriage is a waste,
You have pretty hair, and skin that shines
But I don't want to see your face

I dimmed the light in my mistress's dine
She had charged me with gold and time
I wanted her heart but alas
I realised that it wasn't mine.

For love, my beloved I compose no more of these sullen sonnets,
I would stare into your corazon and eyes that symmetry mine;

My love, my Jupiter, my universe in thine palms,
Your shadow in my arms,
My old and bickering laugh
And your back that stifles the old shrine,
You would be the world's lost diadem,
And little of mine,
I would die and be reborn in thine arms till the end of time.

They are all temporary:
Pop a Xanny and look at the sky;
You cannot play pictionary
If the board is full of lies.

Beyond the east the sunrise,
Beyond the west, the east;
There is no wonder, thirst,
Only monetary schemes,

The traveler in me seeks no streams;
The mind only hops on taxes and pills
Scheme, Marry or ****

BLOWHORN, BLOWHORN HENRY!
Anne creeps up in your philosophical nightmare
The headless chicken,
The world is in despair!

My shoes, these shoes,
Not biblically on wine,
Give me another soul Balthazar,
I'm running out of time

Balthazar, my Balthazar
Dear, Dear neurotics!
A cat and a mouse shall not make the house!

Dear Michelangelo,
shape David again,
maybe my nose, maybe my head,
Maybe my eyes!

Tell Da Vinci I am running out of my mind!

I'm an anorexic womb of hate and guts
But the dawn of May, i must **** myself.

May taught me that he may come back.
Or that he may not.

Psychologically you may lick the blood of your neighbour
But then again, you may **** her unborn child
Or you may not

Have you seen May? the girl who lives down the lane
She slept with many men, but not with their souls.

She may be my new friend.
I may sleep with her too

He may love me someday and
I may return my love for him.

But then again,

I may not.