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The road I remember was swampy and dark Those features were trademark showing the absence of its virginity, road that spoke of having coitus with sinister spirits, road that smelt of smooth soil and monsoon wind like a soul staring my poor bleeding heart Road that spoke of scars, of pain, of misery, of debt, of hate, of rape, of trampled path, of death, of strive for existence, of lost purpose, of unwise decision Yet the road was dark, embracing the art of self sacrifice, I could see it, smell the homeliness, even the flash light of my phone couldn't suffice to cure it I was walking further down the path with my mobile as a torch light and mentally immobile, I was scared of heading towards night that was more and more dank and quiet Winds were blowing stronger with my heart being kept in a fridge I then suddenly dropped my phone as if being seized by the soil I bowed down to pick it up but I was in turmoil, aware of a smell quite familiar, was it coming f...

                               Picture Credit:  perzikhoofd.deviantart.com/art/Lost-in-thought-427293580 How sweet are your thoughts and philosophies? Are they too good to be true or too much grounded to reality? Actually, what is reality? Is it a definite shape? Or someone's abstract smell you feel around you? Or they colour of loneliness you're drowning in? Is it just a glassed box? What is loneliness? Is it something you constantly beg to have, or something you constantly beg to have been encountered with warm hugs? The word "loneliness" may give must of us a subtle sting. But most of it all, most of us despise it, just like depression until it takes many a one favourite artists away from us. Now where was I? Philosophy or reality or maybe nothing. I am just typing whatever this smelly dark room solidifies and brings to life. Maybe my mind is lucid. It keeps on dreaming while I constantly have a...

Miracle plays in life were the  plays that never happened. Getting into the false hope that life would get better, we decided to go with the flow and let time heal our bruises scattered all over our soul as a materialistic temptation and hate. Actually, those bruises were the inevitable ones, I remember. Death and bruises in the soul are alike, at least for me. In the aforementioned case, I had known I would be left bruised and have my heart trampled sooner or later. Then, the pain strruck suddenly, without a warning. Just before the death, I remember killing everyone around me for my inner peace. I can never go to heaven.

Hunted by the devils, tried to run Elaborated art of perfection leads to god being run over by demons, god of earth, moon blocking the sun rocket science speed changes earth into a ball of fire, ball of fur melts into ice cold "purrrrrrrrrr" with a furious sound Making me run on the fast lane I take all the flavours out of it, having fun being chased my burning feet don't phase me, lazy one that turned into traces of souls trying to escape away arranges the soul, and make it compound A soul, a black soul, burning fire of hell, my black soul, eaten by the devilish world Put in sale, foul smell of satan wondering if he found his gem evil grin, mine, but Satan's scared if he gets eaten alive, in broad day-light, oh there isn't one, Satan hallucinates, warm purrrrrrrrr licking me smiles, as the satan cries fire dries, revives as black flames, deprived of love deprived of hate deprived of anger deprived of fear ...

Whatever it was, it wasn't a day of monsoon as far as I vividly remember. The weather had been yet cold again, kind of like the days in winter. Well, not too cold. It was the sun, staying hideous behind the clouds as if it was scheming something. I personally find this kind of weather intriguing. It represents melancholy and peacefulness like the two sides of the same coin. Sometimes, the latter one lacks in my vision. Sadness takes over, but why does the peacefulness not completely leave, I wonder. Now, to each their opinion, I always repeat. Some may hate this preference of mine. I don't hate sunny days. In fact I find it fascinating too. Now there, not trying to put this two-tongued talk to take over. Please don't blame me. I don't know how I feel anymore, in a sense. See right there, I just went on to be a hypocrite again. It is not that I don't feel. I do and a lot more than you think I would. I just sometimes refuse to accept them, sometimes they refuse t...

Okay, now BBA and BLAS 1st  semester group have planned a trip to Chitlang. It kind of feels weird (you know, 1st sem., different faculties, no tight friendship). But if anyone from BBA is reading this, I want to let you know that I love you guys. Me, I am an awkward guy, I don't socialize with everyone easily. So, I think I will just stick with my friend from my faculty. Friends from BBA, again, I love you too. It's 8 o' clock. The bus just started now. Satyam with me in a two man row seat.  He asked me for a poem for him to rap it.  Expecting to see Prabin on kalanki. 8:30 and Prabin caught our bus 9 o' clock We reached Thankot. Me along with Zutima, Pooja and Akankshya were left behind. We're being guided by Rohit (model) sir. 9:20 and we caught up to our funtoosh group (Anish, Elena, Laxman, Prabin and Satyam). 10 o' clock The way is so damn interesting, from wide pedestrials to narrow bushes. The bush path was so sexy that if one falls down fr...

                            Remember when I said I had killed a rose? was today the anniversary I went to its graveyard, when it rose, suddenly blossomed like a nursery and it spoke, Did you miss me? I'm haunting you. Do you see the beauty I'm flaunting through? You say you now prefer thristles to me?? You're the biggest hypocrite to be Watch me dance sexily I know you can't resist me, see I see your willy standing up willy-nilly I looked down, only to see blood coming out Rose, the talk of the town I only see blood coming out from down there Not white, but red one Its not fair The rose is for you, said none - Why don't I see pus coming out?? Does my willy share just bloodsheds and tears Blood is similar not to lipstick she smears but bullets and spears that slash victims, they tear that slash victims, they tear She led this victim to tear She made this victim to tear Rose, she laugh...