We’re the setting sun
And the rising one
We’re the horizon
That doesn’t truly exist
Because what doesn’t exist
Cannot be erased


Night Vision

We were merely two wolves
Carrying embankments in our howling chests
Falling for our moons, in reflections of disturbed ponds
Acquaintances we were, of parallel woods
Not much thought spared
Other than the occasional, the customary
We were merely two wolves
Streaking through the wilderness
Within and without
Barely touching borders
Barely touching
Each other
And now nights roll out, carpets of moss to tread on
I hear you, I hear us
Soft padded thuds, footsteps or simply what we feel?
We howl, not echoing each other
For we let out the sorrows clawing our subdued eyes
Can I rest my tired head against your shoulder?
Guarding these walls has drained me
The reminders ache in the form of thorns embedded
Can I rest my head against yours?
It’s a quiet place of peace
Where our borders merge
A silent breathing space of no-meaning
Yet as we breathe us in, I wonder
When did darkness become a silhouette
Of warmth?

Clockwork Town

From the hull of ships
That could carry lake-fulls of rum
To an inwardly shrunk decanter
I’ve become

Not much liquor in my breath
Nor the stench of haphazardly formed texts
Perishing in the stampede
In the labyrinthine tunnel of expression

From thought to word to throat
Led astray by worldly distractions
But more importantly
Derailed by the inner haunting carnivals
At every junction

How, how do I go from being a brewery to a town

Functioning on an untimely schedule
I’m a clockwork town
Streetlamps lit with proses
Shadows cast by spectres of words lost

Either at the sword-point of flowing nibs
Or dispersed throughout the universe
Unfurling with exhaling breaths


I never let you go
I waited for the possibility of an ‘us’ to erase itself
I never pursued you
I indulged in the thought of loving you
Without wanting to be loved back
Now there’s someone where I could’ve been
I didn’t let you go
I waited for the possibility of an ‘us’ to erase itself
Now there’s an empty space where you have been
For a quarter of a decade
It’s empty but not the absent and something-is-missing kind
It’s space that feels empty but like it could be filled
With some nice
Nice is a nice word to begin with
It was nice loving you


I like the dark words
The ones heavy on my tongue
Dripping like the juices of stolen fruits
Bitten into with despair and sorrow
Like a sky full of black feathers
Making their descent with heraldry of the dead
Beatings of wings crooning into the night
With their captivating spell
Quiet is such a beautiful incantation
Of all things lost and unspoken
Yes give me the dark words and the heavy ones
I walk with mighty strength to carry them on my back
On my tongue
In my throat
Without choking
People are confounded by this obsession
This proneness to being seduced by an unhealthy platter
Of words
Too heavy
Yet too fulfilling
For this unbound appetite
Eyeing intangible things with an unquenchable thirst

Phantom Pirate

The cavity in my chest is too familiar an ache
If hollows were literal
I would reach into the darkness
Let it seize my wrist with an invitation
To the realms I carry within
The dark worlds and the standby worlds
Swirling and heaving
Tendrils of my thoughts
Sucking the vicinity, my surroundings, into itself
It feels so pretentious and repetitive
Like these bones, this blood, these organs doing their thing
Have all memorized the routes of emotions I sail through
As if there are no new maps
No new ships with glorious sails snapping in the wind
No new pirate to mould myself into
And pillage through new lands and territories
The gaping abyss sighs, rhythmic booms echoing through my lonesome corridors of thought
Imaginary rapiers and daggers clanging at my hip
I pick a pinch of the swirling darkness from my chest
Setting the wisp on an eye I gasp at the action
Perhaps this is the price to pay
For new worlds and naval corridors to sail through
Perhaps, if I do not stop seeing what I was made to see
I’ll never find what I wish to find
The wisdom I’ve acquired may expire or sink
An eye patched for a vision
The hull spelling my name will tear through this chest, this abyss
Through my entire being if it must
It must taste the wind waiting to guide its bulk through unknown waters
It must groan under my reckless, starving captainship
It must stay alive
It must sail and strive
Through storms and wreckage
Through nights without lighthouses
It must come face to face with sunken legends of old
And crash through waves writhing and writing lores of its own

Ethereal Eternities


I’m floating through the ether
On a sea of time
Time… A fabricated concept
Light years passing
In the micro of a nano second it takes
To switch lanes from one thought to another
I’m floating through the ether
A flame riding on the back
Of a moth so frozen our love doesn’t burn
We are nebulae destined to collapse
Forming and reforming
A sight of wonder-vending wishes
Even in celestial demise



If I reach inside
Will I be able to grab hold
Of these flailing strands of thought?
Suspended wisps in a darkened void
Of not-knowing

Will I, well, am I
Any longer
Capable of acknowledging them
Honouring them
Instead of this recent practice
Of disrespecting by ignoring them?

Am I only a question-bearer to myself now?
Did I, in pursuit of some other quest, discard the answer-seeker?

A sledge to an empty carriage
From bereft did I descend to spent?
If so, is this it?
The limitation, the capacity
To capacitate all I’ve ever held within?

The tools to build and craft
The art
Breathing its last as I pen
This into a collected spiral
Which has soaked in enormities
Of creations
I was unaware I could shape

Perhaps, just perhaps
This isn’t the end
The credits haven’t rolled in yet
No, this isn’t it

This however
Is once again
A time period of transformation
And like every metamorphosis ever undergone
It’s carving its story onto cavern walls
Far, far from my textual, vocal cords

It hurts