Only Ink In Between Life and Death

“Mr Poet, will you ever really love?”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Jason. I fall in love almost every night.”

“Haha! That’s why you end up staining all those pages with ink, huh?”

“Well, we stain each other first in love and then write stories.”

“You and your fantasies.”

“Cheers, old friend.”

I got out of the bar, it was raining, the best kind of night in Los Angeles. Rain is rare in the city, but tonight was special. I walked slowly, feeling each drop that hit my face. The sky was alive, crying all the way to rejoice. The road was empty, the streets were held by the cold winds.

A girl stood towards the end of the road. She was still, I could only see her back, a blue robe flying with the wind. Her head was covered by the cloth extending from the dark blue robe. She stood still, one in the depressed lot. Everybody was depressed, but she could be smiling in madness too, her story held a strong vibe and I was pulled. She turned around and her eyes caught me in the skip of the second.

Blue, bright, I wonder if she was crying, but when the world cries, we can hide in the frame of time.

“Are you alright?”

She kept her sneer alive, no words travelled the air except mine. She stepped towards me, blue approaching the dark in the night. Her intentions never lived and my fear had died. Her lips overlapped my mind and I was kissing the rain tasting of wine. We ran, could fly, but the sound of the legs flattering through the water had a sense of delight. A narrow street alone in disguise waited for the light. We kissed and the thunder broke its might.

Each kiss became louder than the rain. My heart could suck out her pain. Not only the wet cover of her body was blue, but her dying sight, like the sharp poison of the dying night. I tore apart the lies on her chest, a quill tattoed on her heart, a heart held still in the dark. She stared at the thunder hitting my eyes.

“I am dying.”

My words never came to life, we kissed away the misery in our mind. The clouds fell down with her cloak, as I kissed the essence of her breast. My lips felt cold as if an immortal held my core. The streets died, the stars had committed suicide. Dark had enveloped the light in my eyes. Blind.

In the void of my desire, I held her in my mind. I could not feel my skin, numb till the silent scream of the divine. A shiver ran through my chest as I saw two blue crystal burning away my blind. Demons of the dark canopies, dancing with my soul, claiming the skies.

“I am dying.”

Some clouds had left the sound of her cries. We kissed away her life, a melody so dark that my ink could not survive. I was laying on the ground, looking at the moon. The blue had nerved my darkness into doom.


On the Corpse of the Cosmos

I am lost and seeking refuge. At times, at home, where everything is the same, I feel a surge of alienation. Alienation leading to the path of surreal yet complete encapsulation of illusions.

I sit down, numb everything but my forehead. It takes a while to forget the trauma of my sense. Slowly, a serene light hits the shore of my temple and I am held.
Held home, if you will.

But you won’t . So I don’t try telling people about it, I just open my eyes from the dimensions where time lacks influence on space. I open up to the world where all beings are just and lost, so I cry happy tears, knowing the reality and decay of the time.

Beautiful things are simple. Like a conversation with a friend who gets you. Although it is impossible at the versified age of human depression. But yesterday, I cried of happy tears with a friend. She could understand the light and the vision of the surreal home. So we took off to another plane and counted the dead stars in the night, while hanging out on the corpse of the cosmos.

The deal was simple, digital screens can end up in the best creative promt. We decided to let go off the entire universe, because inside encapsulation of the bent space, nothing that we are aware of really exist. Yes, the imagination led us to an inside of a dead star. It is strange and uknown to science as to what happens if someone breaks down while travelling through dimensions.

But thanks to the movie Intersteller, the virtual date got even more interesting. We visited memories in the void of that night. A few years in the broken space was funny enough to lose some tears, the good thing was that the expansion of the conscience was comforting.

It was like meditating, the wrong direction of escape but when pushed back into the realisation that it was around 2:00 AM, all we could do was smile on the broken dream.

Everything gives room for spiritual insight, its just that we forget how to smile sometimes. That one night happened for the justified carvation of these lines:

Last night, we slept on the corpse of the cosmos,
Lived a little while in her eyes,
A little in mine.
For memories and the mortality of time,
We laughed of the tears from life.


Time Does Not Count

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” Its been almost two years now. Still thirteen chapters. I wonder when will I be able to complete it. Cannot even think of a good blog.  This block is suffocating”
With my hands in the pocket, I took another step towards the end of the road, at least we assumed there was an end. Emily was with me, the faint sight of her lost eyes was comforting in the chilling weather. She looked at me, no expression on her face, she said,
“You think too much, or maybe, you think very less. Try a drag of this cigarette, every artist needs it once in a while.”
She passed on the cigarette. I placed it in between my fingers and felt a sensation on them. Numb from the cold wind, the only feeling my skin had while holding the cigarette was suffocating.
“This thing only adds on to the blur of life. I am lost in the story and I would like to find things settled down. If the smoke from my mouth can shape a portal to things I cannot think about, only then I will commit an offence to the wind.”
Portals to the things you cant understand? Here is something for you. Why can’t you move?
Everything stopped, I could not move my body.I could not even roll my eyes around to know if everything had stopped with me. I could not feel my heart as if everything had stopped and all senses numb.
What is this?
You wanted to know more, well you are in space without time, how does it feel?
I did not understand how I was emitting the question and the voice impacting the space, it had no source, it was everywhere. It said, space without time. Except for my thoughts, everything has indeed stopped.
If you want to move, leave the body. I am a ghost which unlike the common ghost exhibit a body but not time. You cannot see me in that flesh, the flesh cannot function without time. Humans are the creatures of time. You want to know more, Leave the flesh. For a while, everything will die, but you will live above your death.
I said, die. Meditate your energy on the soul and die off time.
————————————————-14 December 2017——————————————————–
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“Meditate. I have to Meditate!” Everything resumed and my heart felt the same as if nothing happened. Emily looked at me, as I shouted.
“Sure, go ahead. Don’t scream. If only meditation helps you to write your book, go meditate.”
I looked at her, clueless about everything. I had to die, Something told me I had to die off meditating. I closed my eyes and brought all my focus to my forehead. My numbed body helped me forget everything.

You are on your way, let them die now. Let Emily die.
With my eyes closed, I could sense the images around me. It was horrifying, I could sense that Emily was not breathing, and her cigarette started burning her. Her chest was on fire, and the fingers emitted smoke, the blood was forming vapours.
No! I love her.
Don’t love her, or else time shall arrive for you. This is not your world, son. Nothing you know exist without time. When you return, the world shall be alive. Let it die, for now. For now, the past has nothing to do with the future.
I kept my focus, the voice was hypnotic almost as if blending into my existence and not in my senses. I could not feel the world then, everything disappeared. I could not sense colours, or smell, or movement.
You cannot describe this to yourself. We are in a poem, written by the origin. You are infinite dimensions away from the origin here. In the time-space coordinate, almost 20 years from the instance of oblivious death to humane birth.
Whatever this is, whatever you are, take me back! I don’t belong here. Not right now, at least. Give me time, I am not ready for this.
Give you time? There are spirits here resting, getting ready to crossover infinity to meet the divine origin. And you ask me for time. You are meditating right. You want time, you shall get it. No artist good enough from the realm of time. You wanted to know more, but yes, not ready to know more. There is no now. Just open your eyes, the flick of your eyes, the movement shall make you live, and everything here will die. This is space, and remember, it is everywhere without time.
There was nothing I could think, I could not comprehend a single unit of my existence in this space. Everything I ever thought and now this, a void that defails my whole life. And it feels a lot more real.
You have written a lot, but now, you have to start fresh. Time does not count. Numbers are the tool of time to form a loop. One day in your world, Maths shall discover our trace. Spirit already exist without time. Visit me. But, remember once you return, forget the numbers and seek the essence. Don’t write things comprehensive to mortality, for you are the few minds that will remember this meeting. You will write this and the reader shall then seek redemption from the cage you exist within.


————————————————-14 December 2017——————————————————–
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I was back. Emily was alive, the cigarette was burning in her hand. Everything else was a blur as the fog surrounded the sight. I took a deep breath in and smiled. Felt my heart move, almost as if more weak to the energies around me, forcing me to move and breathe. But I could smile, I had the idea. I knew what to write.
“Throw that cigarette, I know what I am writing for my next blog post.”

Yesterday, I Saw a Lion Kiss A Dear

Across the hall, a woman in blue with a glass of wine. Her eye surrounded by the flick of darkness and her lips covered in the blood red. There was something around that outcasted the beauty of the Basilica, the Gods painted on the walls were all bowed to this moment. Screening out my urge to talk to the female.
I need to get back home, tomorrow is another day when I should wake up early. After all this is not a dream, otherwise, I would approach, just to get my heart pass through some poverty. Ah, screw it, let the light be upon me when I dance with her tonight.

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie
That’s amore
When the world seems to shine like you’ve had too much wine
That’s amore

Oh, alright, thanks for the music heavens, if only this could be anything less than a dream.

“Hello, would you like to dance?”


Her smile greeted me a simple intuition that this shall only last this night. But for once, it shall be beautiful. I took her hand, the other one on her waist. Dean Martin’s echo had taken over the place. And her eyes, oh her eyes, their depth was astonishing. If only this could last.

“Whats your name, I must say, it is a pleasure to take on the steps with you.”

No, wait. The lights went off and the Basilica turned into a dark uncertainty. Stars held the night in my mind and we were walking now, hands in hand. The street then illuminated by the strangers kissing all around. The moon lit up my mind again from the blur, I looked at her hand and then in her eyes, almost as if now, they were even more clear and undisturbed from the hue of lights.

“Your eyes, it seems, I can fall in them,
It seems, there is so much depth,
So much to adore in those eyes,
The thoughts that are intriguing my mind,
The lucid shine provoking my sight.”

“I, don’t know, you sure can say things”

Her expressions were so simple yet strong, almost as if my vanity over her features were making no impact on her connection with the beautiful night. She looked at the moon, and I fell into the reflection in her eyes. The moon was never this beautiful.


“Holding onto the sight is dangerous here,
All I can do is speak out this verse,
All I can do is sustain this night in my words,
How will that help the stars that are healing those deep scars?
How can a few words defying time, fix your broken lines,
Maybe I should walk away, let the universe rain.
On her beautiful face, the cosmos shall hail.
On her beautiful face, the worthy shall find his trace,
Into the darkness of her eyes. “


Her phone rang and I excused her, rescued my momentum from the rush. I drank the darkness of the night, escaping the dark frame of her eternal smile.

“You are sweet!”

She said while snapping away the packet of cheeseballs from my hand. It was another night in the desert, it was a pouring rain in my heart, the third time, the same woman in the vision of this bright night. Is it raining? It’s a desert. Hey, wait, it’s actually raining. She leaned forward and I reposed onto the moment by syncing in the lies. Her temple to my eyes.
And I lost almost all I had at the time.

I opened up my eyes and saw her in front of me. We were on a boat, lost in an ocean, her eyes were mystical in the dark colour this time. The fourth time, the same face of the beautiful poetry hidden in the frame of my mind.
I shall drown in this moment, once and for all. If I die tonight, this moment shall last forever with this water body. The ocean of my subconscious mind, poetry in the air, seeking divine in her eyes. How bad, I wanted to stay, to stay up all night, all day, to be lost in the loop of this blasphemy.
But then, I had to be one with the ink and not her eyes. It’s not the right time to know her better. I shall die tonight. I closed my eyes, stood up and fell off the boat, into the suspended space of neurons making a mess in the space. Everything punctured my heart and I woke up alone, with memories haunting my stay.
The dawn was on its way, after the death of those scars, I long for the symphony of those, lost in bliss by the strings of adhearence of the universe burning in each star. It feels better, one night with her was more than all the love I have had in the year.
I woke up and waited for the sun, as she lay at the back of my mind with her face against my stolen time. There is a dream, then reality and then comes the dawn. I died in the dream, the place where I loved. I shall die in the reality with the dawn where I smile in disguise. When the sun rays hit my skin, my soul shall be one with the sun, I will be home.

2. Another Day to Spare a Dream

“Its called a Thunderbird. Hey, I am Newt Scamander.” An old British man appeared from the woods and offered Naina a sneering smile.
“Where?” Naina tried to assemble her thoughts and question in the limited English she could use.
“Language problem, or is it the transportation? Well, let me help you, I could barely get the alien American accent even now.” He took out his wand, a clean wooden stick curved at the end where it was held. Scamander levitated the wand and there was an illumination in his wan at the height. Naina was lost again, too much of bright lights for her in one night. Naina suspended slowly into the air and rested on the ground, she was not under her control. The wand lit up the entire surrounding, Newt put his wand back in the pocket of his trousers, he adjusted his blue overcoat and got on the Thunderbird.
“Time to go back home, dear friend. We will come here again when you want to be free. For now, Hogwarts is calling.” The enormous bird spread its wing and made an echo for the woods.
“And don’t worry about her, she will wake up with a new language, let her learn the words. Ilvermorny is the right place for her.”
Thunderstruck and the Thunderbird took over the clouds. The moonlight was eclipsed by the wild convergence of the clouds leaving Naina to rest on the grass.

Naina opened her eyes to find herself alone in the forest, the twilight woke her up. Astonished and lost in the forest, she got up. She heard a group of people coming closer to her, the bushes were making sound and she could listen to different voices.
“This way!” A voice with a shrill pitch echoed through the forest. Naina walked towards the source, she hid behind the bushes, placing her hand to pull the huge leaf. She found several people wearing coloured cloaks and a tall woman trying to uproot a plant next to her.
“Can you see us, young lady?” Everybody turned towards Naina and somehow she was called upon.
“I can, I am lost!” She tried approaching the woman. Her own accent was surprisingly changed.
“If you can see us, then you are not lost, my child. You must be a witch. Alister! Huish Hwaeuy Huis!”
A huge horse appeared out of the trees. Everyone in the crowd was acting normal as if nothing strange was happening. The horse stood right next to the woman. A dark skin animal, with majestic hair floating in the air. almost similar to that of the woman in the lustre. Even their height was exactly the same.
“Alister shall take you to the premise! Enjoy the ride.” She swung her pitch black sword in the direction pulling in the air to make Naina sit on the horse. Her heartbeat had no bound after experiencing all this and she passed out as the horse ran into the trees.
“My dear child is finally here!”
“It took her 18 years of her life to find the link, but finally. She looks so beautiful, just like you honey, I wonder what colour of eyes. I bet its green like yours.”
“I can’t believe we had to stay away from her for 18 years just for the sake of the muggle nurture treaty that Macusa invented to safeguard the faith of words.”

1. A Night to Spare Another Day

Kundah is the name of a small town near the Nilgiri Hills in India. The december nights in Kundah are cold and almost fatal to the stray dogs living in the district. On christmas eve, Naina had somehow collected some clothes for the stray dogs. It was around 2 AM in the full moon light, when she sneaked out of her foster house to help the poor souls. She was unlike other people living in the district, her blue eyes would call for wonders in the long night, with her hair flawlesly falling on her red sweater, she smiled looking at the puppies bundled up by the street.

She took out some patched pieces of clothes and covered the shivering puppies in their sleep. The moon was bright, some of the christian household had decorated their wooden houses with light, all the magical elements in the lonely night sustained her smile. Soon the blue eyes were caught by a green kandeel, the Indian hanging sort of like a shade for the lights. But this one was different, the craft on the texture was entierly unique to Naina, she herself had woven many crafts on such kandeels back in the foster house during vacations to earn some extra money. She stood underneath the kandeel and glared upon the beautiful lit up sky. The nights in the district of Kundah were always bright, the full moon would co-ordinate with the stars visible in the clear skies.

It was not late till the kandeel would start to refract certain other colours from the moonlight falling on the craft. Naina as lost in those colours, stood there simply, wondering the occurences above. She look closely to the centre of the hanging and her sight lost into the unilinear strain coming straight to her forehead.

Her surroundings started to refract the similar patterns, the streets disappears and huge trees replaced into the soil. The puppies were rocks and the mountain dissolved into a lake. And soon the kandeel disappeared into beak of a large bird looking at Naina, as the tiny human still wondering, looking into the eyes of the creature as if dreaming.

Still lost in her head, admiring the huge creature, she placed her right hand on the neck of the wild beast. The humungous bird jolted to break Naina’s dillusion and she broke into a scream.

The Featured Image is by Naina! Check out her amazing Instagram feed here.

Into the Sea of Trees (Part-2)

Laying on the bed,
Blood Rushing into the head,
Hitting corners to fall asleep,
Waking up from dreams in certainties.

Slowly, the wooden finish of the wall is dying,
It will come alive with branches catching hold of my lies,
For me, this place is home, when its rooted in my mind,
Darkroom, dwelling green leaves,
Destiny, pilling up dreams and fantasies.

I hold the bed, the bark of a lonely breeze,
A forest flying upon my needs,
Oh beautiful birds, they call me,
Symphonies dancing in silence,
The heart so numb as timeless.

I am alone here, with thoughts as lucid as space,
In my room, with bricks interstellar for the rain,
And soon the stars shall fall tonight,
So close to my numb heart,
Beating along its cardiac bundles of arrest,
Oh dear, a lucid space and rain,
As tempting, I grabed the bed sheet and returned again.

I opened my eyes to the bricks suffocating me and blocking my subconscious. I just had to sleep again, it will be stronger this time, the forest of my thoughts. It will be the second time I lose myself. I slammed the patch on my right hand, pushing it hard on my skin. Laid and waited for the angel of oblivion to decorate my metaphysics of presence.