the distance

the mouth of death is wide
filled with hopelessness and decay
teeth sharp like levithan wings
a razor tongue ready to sing

stuck between heaven and hell
the limbo lounge is pretty swell
make new friends and enemies too
they're all stuck here just like you

chase the nightmares out of here
no time for love, no time for fear
speed forth, gush like life's fountain
give no fucks for joy or pain

silent, still the maw of death
filled with despair and stinking breath
the distance between the rows of teeth
there you live, don't forget to breathe

--

Obsolescence of Dreams

Dreaming neanderthals
Stars stuck on the ceiling
A planetarium in space
Spinning marionettes

Obfuscating silhouettes
Sunset, sunrise, surprise!
Dumbed, numbed, crumbed
Pry open the eyes
(the dreams fly away)

wake up, stumbling
ready to kill
coffee in the veins
so much for the thrill
(it's all downhill, from here)

the gullitone is ready
inviting, glinting, sexy sharp
shove in the head of 2016
(drop the blade)
let loose the hounds of hell
2017, we're coming

--
Keeping in tradition of bad poetry. Things that don't make sense. Fuck 2016, prime 2017 for more abuse, disuse, refuse from the get go.

What I mean is happy new year. Take it easy out there.

switchblade smile

there is a demon in me, he said
you need to cut it out for me
i can feel the demon rising rising
why won't you smile at me?

your lips sharp, hide a sharper tongue
the words that travel from your lungs
slice into me with speed and force
i bleed like a pig without remorse

your switchblade smile has done me in
they say it's a sin, i say let's begin
if this is death from a thousand cuts
then what the fuck are we waiting for

mask

beneath the hill
beside the river
in shade of willow trees
a path goes where i used to be
inside my hut
under the bed
a hole, once i had dug
i filled it up
with knicks and knacks
when i left for my king
but i come back
every now and then
to take a look at my things
i dig the earth
to see the thing
that i had buried once
the chest is ugly
bruised, scarred, filthy
opening it is no fun
but open it, i do
i look inside too
at the past i try to forget
but it sticks to me
like a leech
a hungry hungry pest
nostalgia is a bitch
i take the old rags
inhale them deep
just so i can remember
as i go back into the sewer of world
just to return here next december
my mask is true for one more year
i wear is proudly like a beast
i know i have nothing to fear
not till next year at least

Front loading nightmare

This strange creature in my room 

Cleans my clothes 

Maybe it has little goblins in it 

That survive on water and detergent 

There must be a whole city inside 

Of tiny demons that wait every week 

For their supply of filthy tributes

That they clean and spit out

I refuse to believe in electricity, sir

There is a goblin city inside this machine 

They wait and pine till I shake off laziness

And give them some dirty clothes to clean  

Every year the servicing magician comes over 

To replace goblins that have expired

He fills up the machine with a new population

That the wizards at IFB have hired

Sometimes I hear the machine tick at night 

As goblins dream of revolutions

But then I remember my dirty clothes

And shove them in the machine with cleaning solutions 

Maybe some day the goblins will emerge

From the bowels of machines all over the world 

If they don't find enough clothes to clean

Maybe they'll take over this earth. 

---

Sending poems from phone makes their text size weirdly large. Bear with me, dear readers. 

no friends

I had this friend who
would fall in love
with every girl he saw
he'd take a bus from his home to college
and every day he'd tell us
that he fell in love with a different girl
we went to rishikesh once
and he fell in love there too
with a British girl who was walking
wearing a red salwar suit
her blonde hair untied
like she was born out of fire
and my friend stood there transfixed
i've never seen someone so stupefied
so hypnotized, so mesmerized
by the sight of another person
in that moment I felt happy for him
and jealous of him too
thinking if I'd be able to ever fall in love like that
he handed me his film camera then
and asked me click his picture with that alabaster angel
clicked his pic i did (such an indian thing)
we said goodbye to that girl
and walking back to the bus station
my friend, he of the fickle heart,
fell in love with another girl

---
my only friends have been weirdos, i have no time for normal, stable people.

sand

the layers of sand are shifting
each grain, each second, each breath
piling on top of each other like corpses
in the trenches of my memories

every day is a snowflake
so different, yet same
i sink deeper and deeper
every time you whisper my name

my hourglass is broken
malware in my mainframe
my thought are vaporous mists
wafting from my heated brain

i dip my fingers in the sands
grains stick to my fingers
i can't shake them off
for i don't understand

my memories and visions are entwined
in the ball pit of my mind
what monsters pop up i don't know
should i stay or should i go