i imagine people
bundled up in grief
of words that they have carried over years—
of things that could not become theirs
of the beings they could have been,
had the world been a bit easier

pain, so pretty

i see them as bundles,
carrying ropes twisted around their guts,
visibly being mocked by all those
who roam light and agile in their lives
the ones adding to that burden

the grief-added mind
carries us so drifted and quick
almost floating through life
but what of the drowning
that this heart undergoes

having shattered so many times,
it has lost all the hopes
and so it gets filled up to the brim
leaks out, seeps into—
and the skin so tender and bruised,
everything cuts a little too deep

sleep is a cacophony

i think i peeked inside the wiring of my brain
for a couple of seconds today
you know it is like—
there is a hole at the very centre
that has a very solid boundary
the outer layer has got hooks and daggers
and things pinned and across

but what is the worst
is the chains and ropes surrounding it
holding that part in the very middle,
at the very centre
and every time they twist and pull,
it does not hurt
but the ache goes a bit numb

and it feels so numb
that sometimes i want to
drown in burning water,
stand under the coldest shower,
eat molten lava,
or consume ice until my mouth burns
just to feel something—at the very least

and it has existed forever
but on days that are hard
it gets ugly
sears in its loneliness
like a deep hollow
resounding with the echoes
of a whale in the ocean

pain so beautiful
so undeterred, unspoken
a telltale so enchanting
it brings you in, soaks you deep
leaves you ragged,
with nothing to sleep with
except for constant nightmares
or even worse—
the dull ache in your existence

yet pain so pretty
because it makes you feel.

because to be honest,
i did not know where to start
no beginning, then how could it end
what do you mean pain is constant?
but when it heightens,
something in my brain hits just right
and i turn into the next be-****** poet

this time it is a mess of stuff—
like things piled up in the corner of your room
and overlooked for long enough
except one day you are trying to find something in them,
sort of like something to balance you
but instead it triggers you
and you realise you are just lost

it outs me,
and puts me in a spot
one that i oh-so
despise to talk about