another sunset by the beach

each drop of sunlight

spilling from my hands

back into the golden waves

white foaming at my feet

and miles of pink grains

my soul sinks

while i watch my life glitter in half an oyster shell.


Puri, Odisha, India.



After I killed you

It’s odd.
When I leave behind
the confinement of
the cold, conditioned
Subway train
And the smell of rain,
fresh on the pavement
arouse my senses,
dormant otherwise.
I think of you
lying down,
the green of the grass
so filled with life
beneath, mocking you.
The blood curling in
the clarity of the greenery
Like a crimson spell, opaque.

It’s odd
My hands are washed
I feel no guilt

Vice Versa

I am concealed in destitute
in whispers and in shadows
I am omnipresent
bringing forth hope
in innocence and in radiance

I am a specter that lurks in quiet
frayed at the edges, fading
thriving in the dark.
I am an opaque entity,
distinct and burning bright
reigning in open light.

Where I may never be found
forever elusive
behind an illusion of deceit
Where I may never be shunned
forever brave
as free as wind upon grass

Safe and sound
till the disquiet of the light
illuminates me
Safe and sound
till the silence of the dark
consumes me

The dark lightens
The light darkens
and there I am!
I am infinity,
living and dying – merging at the seams.
Both lost and found,
illuminated and darkened, I am.


De Mourir

Things they say of the dead
Whispering in shades of monochrome

OnceĀ one is gone
One can never come back

Through rainbow tinted glasses I peer
In dirges tones that i hear

Things of the dead that they whisper

They say that the climb is taxing
Not taxing enough to pay heed
The shadows on the other side
are the only friends that i have

Their friendship that binds me tight
like a czar’s iron fist
their grip is like vice
the vice like the creeper’s lust of poisoned nettle

Trapped in time’s hourglass
the passage of an era passes
unnoticed by our tired eyes

The yellowed pages of my parchment
long forgotten, long abandoned
wither with burdened age,
the innate scribbles gone, forever.

The smear of the crimson ink
staining my pale hands
accusing me of murder.
Poor murderous souls of ours.
Are they so?

A lone ghost from the shadow
Whispers in tones somber
Once one is gone
one can never come back

Shadows that swirl in
the brightest of illuminations
Haunting, forever.

The view of the other side is gratifying
The sky in painted
in brilliant shades of blood and grime
The ground is teeming
in blackness, a blackness that crawls

Corpses,shrouded by the darkness, stare
glassy eyes that hold no fear.
Driven by the force of shadows.
Driven by whispers of insanity.
Crawling, dauntless, forever.

But beyond the shadows
But beyond the ghosts
But beyond the corpses
But beyond all the lost souls
There was a part of me

A part of me that
Fell in quiet sleep
Awakening only in oblivious eternity
A part of me that died,
With you, without you.

And I recollect that
you had whispered vaguely in my ears

Once one is gone
one can never truly come back.