No balms can heal
No love, no sweetness
No words
Can take the brunt
Nor lessen the ache
Of being all too aware
Too perceptive

Raging emotions
Never resting
Erupting and breaking every minute
But inside,  always inside
No escape,  no leakages
Rotting with time
Turning into poison
That will soon eat away the soul. 

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When Evil calls you,
Do not hesitate to follow.
It’ll show you the things you’ve missed
The ones Good kept you away from.

It’ll lead you to the real Canaan,
Where the guilty are honoured,
And the innocent slaughtered.

When sins lure you in,
Do not hush them.
The door to the zenith of pleasure,
Will not open twice.

When you’re called for war,
Come with weapons and a merciless heart.
Let those eyes fill with hatred,
And destroy the ones who look too deep.

Brightly burning people
barely speak of the flammable baggage they bear. 
Rarely will they run to you.
Ignition is safer on the insides,
no one inhales the smoke.
Don’t you dare ask them about death,
for their dreams are dying in the dungeons of their pasts
Growing moss, grieving for guns that go off at every thought. 

Reviving my lame past #2: Excerpts from my incomplete, immature, stupid, unedited novel. Written when I was little so DON’T JUDGE, SHEESH.

For me, it was after I had woken up from my slumber to find a woman examining my long, uniquely shaped ear. I noticed her ears were also of the same size. I tried to sit upright, only to find that i was sitting upright and further attempt to do what i was doing may prove unhealthy. I remember wanting to blink, but not feeling the need to. Before i could say a word, the woman quickly filled me in with all the details. She was my mother, i realised, and said hello. She asked me if i wanted something to drink. I said yes, and she took me deep into the forest which was where the vampire society of Kerala lived. Going further, we reached the fringes of human civilisation. My first victim was a 20-year-old woman with extraordinarily blue eyes. Being 19, I had the face of an innocent poor victim of parental abuse and my first victim decided that I would be a nice addition to her household. She asked me to come with her, but I declined and asked for a hug instead. She hugged me tight and I drank her blood. It tasted exquisite. One of my new-born friends describe blood tasting similar to hot chocolate, but I’m not sure if the comparison is valid, as I have not tasted the beverage myself. I felt no regret, no sympathy, not an ounce of guilt. This is what i am, i realized and accepted myself. No, veganism is not an option. Your presumption, dear humans, has always been wrong.

 

With a heavy sigh, she  said hi again and asked me where i was from.

“Down South,” i replied.

“Kerala.”, i added after a moment of contemplation.

“What are you doing here?”, asked the beauty, giving me a once over.

“I’m taking a vacation. I just finished all my training.” I told her the truth.

“What’s your result?”, she enquired, her voice soft yet demanding.

“Haven’t been announced yet. Next year probably.”  I replied

“You’re lying.”

Now, I don’t lie. It’s against my moral principles to hide the truth. But in this case, the blue eyed princess was absolutely right.

I had got my result.

I’d always read that it was trying,  not winning that mattered. So i gathered all my courage up and told her the blunt truth.

“I am.”

“Huh?”

“I am lying.”

“I know that, bloodsucker. What’s your result?”

Forcing myself to ignore the insult i answered her question.

“twelve”

“12?”

“Yes.”

“So you failed!” she cried.

I kept mum. It is trying that matters, i said to myself. Moreover, twelve is a mark!

“Guess what, sucker?”

“What?”, i asked meekly, reeling from the shock of being called a bloodsucker twice.

“I failed too!”, she crooned, and seizing my hand began to run in circles, occasionally jumping high.

To mummy, who thinks I’m a dummy :) 

My mother tells me,
“To be a writer, you gotta learn to talk more
Go out more
Interact more
Experience more”

Little does she know of the words buried under silence
Of the poems hidden in loneliness
Of the thousand different experiences I can go through
Between the walls of my bedroom

I may have shut the world from my eyes
But I have universes under my skin
And they’re enough, 
They’re enough for me. 

Here lies my heart again
Naked
Stripped off every mask I’d glued to her
Opening up herself
Letting her emotions sink in blood
Only to bounce back, unchanged
This flood has left me floating on the carcasses of what we were

Here lies my heart again
Treading the paths of my love again and again and again

She is sick
Of opening herself too wide
She is sick
Of carrying hurt in her veins
She is sick
Of being asked to move on

Can’t you see
She is crippled with love
She cannot move on.