His screams

His screams

Amplifying the magnitude of chaos

Dwells into sorrows

Bewildering the vocal masters

All thunderstruck,all numb

His screams

Devouring his lungs

Sends shivers to a billion spines

Causing catastrophic desire

Quenching the parched souls

His screams

Weaving roars of uprising

Chides the wall of resurgence

Spanning umatched rhythms

Instigating rush in nerves

His screams

Looping in the hinged minds

Reverberates in the shattered hearts

Transcending limited emotions,

Discovering the  buried flames

His screams

Cultivating teenage playlist

Immortalises the “Chaz” legend

Amidst all legends

Unresting in the memoirs,written in chords.

Roar in paradise,legend!



Have you ever felt so

Comfortable in your


And in your


That you can’t fathom slight tint of

Grey ?

Have you ever enjoyed the

Warmth of nonchalant


And the serenity of


Just to complacently

Defy the songs of


Have you ever longed for

The despicable


And the lusty


To smudge your soul


Have you?

Note : Try not Rupi Kauring this,plis.


Unlike my last act of sanity ,where everything required consent,this was different.This defied pragmaticism. 
I swam through..all the way through,fighting my dizzy senses with utmost glibbery,just to ascend my conscious form.

With unserene thoughts joining cynicism in colossal range,I had a perfect recipe of kissing death,several times.

An enigma had my demons beg for more,crave for more.Poised with the unbounded falsary ,I didn’t want to understand.

I let go of myself,melted into the intimidating scenery.

I fell for the art in her.

Didn’t know my fear was the last thing I’d be begging to face. Didn’t want to understand.

I fell for the art in her.

Never saw the moving poetry,never was lucky enough. Never saw rage as a poetic device,never was disgusted by the quiescence. Never wanted to slip into the depths of puzzles. Never wanted to not to understand it.

I fell for the art in her.

And then I open my eyes only to realize that the fight of fighting reality with dreams was a fiction too.

Time demands seclusion and nonchalant environment for sinking the sadness in,but she won’t let me do it.

I truly fell for the art in her.

She is permanently tattooed in my mind,inscribed on my soul and framed in my heart like a photograph.

Funny thing this mind,creates a perfect memory and fiction.

So when I close my eyes,she is there. 

She is there..still in a photograph taking me far away from the very reality I despise.

I too had a dream..


Four walls,some books and a complete state of denial.

That’s how a day passes by. That’s how past 10 days have been. Four walls,four white walls and to be found on them are shabby scribbles out of exasperation. Four walls which are concrete,encompassing an unhinged intellect. Some books,some highly unlikable books scattered around stamping authority over my motion. Some books which decide the course,thus resulting in a lazy day and an even lazier night ,perishing to procrastination.

How well has this body misfitted in the pattern which has been an absolute Déjà vu for some days?

A despicable truth of reality always supersedes the notion of a concerned future;a mere work of fiction.

You don’t have to spend loads of energy to feel exhausted. Apparently, hopelessness is enough. How do I not oppose it ? To least of my amazement,I am comfortably resisting any help. A low functioning sociopath is what I have become. Can never relate to the universal idea of happiness but I do find Eurus quoting “Happiness is a pop song, sadness is a poem” highly sexy.However, in the midst of constant denial,I shall breathe for I am bit stagnant but not rotten.