wait until, bandini

i could feel her as she waited and waited to see him come through the windows or maybe the door for once i knew of the blows she received a fortnight back not crying not yelping taken in earnest i heard her smile through the blinds of her bath on the third day not eating …

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I once lived in a beautiful place Where it rained and rained and rained and my sisters and I would leave no chance of getting drenched in the rain go by my mom didn't like the idea and would swear to throw us out of the house the next time it happened And it happened …

but i like it better this way

i know they say i am too dark for people to like to be a best seller (/or a writer at all) to write my way to fame and i agree but i like it better this way let me write for the closet, or the lonely notebook more importantly to puke all the shit …

A new loser kind of god.

I like to read my own poems sometimes most times to feel like a god for a few minutes and then get back to being a loser writhing behind a computer screen but the money feels good.

the trap

the trap is in days when you feel like a god in the morning and as the day wears down and the night arrives you are on your knees

no escaping this

dark circles everywhere through bright days I'm in a haze and everything is the same lit hallways dark rooms sleep is the only escape let me escape from a never ending night and be born in the day

older things

i was given possession of an old bike then the engines dusty tyres lying dumb wheel rims rusty heavy heavy bike that took no nonsense while riding and it would take me an hour to get it started and i only did it because i had to the damned bike wanted efforts , a relationship …

watchers around us

i'm used to being a watcher a by-stander in conversations I watch with intent as people speak with conviction, passion , fear and whatever drives them I am a watcher so successful at watching and by standing interesting, boring conversations that I am a by stander now in my own life

alive for something or nothing

hands that shake and lips that quiver words that shiver in fear this is a stuck stuck place a nice made up face clean and smiling looks good from the outside rotten from the inside there's nothing to find here let this uncertainty take over and let if fly like these words not afraid of …

Let's kill ourselves in the night and hope that we become something else tomorrow