I won’t lie, I expected it all to work out.
I really thought the bad guy would be it.
I was the classic good chick. He was the classic man-whore.
Turns out, he had his eyes on the other classic good chick.
I really thought that the good guy would do it.
I took one out of the zone. Pushed him to it.
He complied. He complied with everything.
I got bored.
I made up my mind, the older the better.
They mature with age, don’t they? Like wine. I liked them wines.
He was the perfect wine, made me the right amount of tipsy.
I blabbered. He told me I wasn’t old enough to hold my wines.
I thought the funny one would be fun.
He laughed it off.
Oh well, I was kidding too, you know.
I couldn’t make up my mind about the younger one.
His perfect face convinced me.
But my age and wisdom didn’t make me more secure.
Or worldly enough for him. Medieval worldly.
I tried to drown my sorrow with the tortured one.
But sorry boy, I’m not that down in the dumps.
I made my mistakes.
Please don’t collide your world with her’s-
She barely can keep things straight in there
How do you suppose she has the answers for your cyclones and quakes?
She is the child, not the mother
Rage, greed and lust haven’t been done raping her
Don’t ask her to approve of you-
She is just someone walking by,
Without a map
Do not follow her, she walks on to be lost-
In the woods, in this haze, in her hallucinations
Among the murderers and the other criminals
Wicked she follows, don’t follow her
There isn’t redemption where the road leads
There isn’t hell at the end
It leads you on and on
She leads you on and on
Never ending, never ceasing
Tiring you, frustrating you, beating you
Photograph courtesy: Sarah Ann Loreth
Something about me,
I wake up wanting to chew 10 heads for breakfast.
People piss me off, with their scrawny little faces and puny little brains.
Don’t you go caring about me, I am not going to return the favors
I care about myself enough for both of us.
I think of myself day and night, week over month and month to years
Except that one year, I got my heart bull dozed over.
Or that other time I fucked up real bad.
Self obsessed, self centered, selfish. With a low self esteem.
I think of myself enough.
Loner, people hating bitch with more friends than I care to count.
Way too practical considering the whimsical fairyland going on in my head.
The voice is my best friend.
My hair my worst enemy.
Am I superficial or do I feel too deep, too much?
Its the paradox of paradoxes.
My brother says, I’ll end up being alone.
My shrink says I better put my guards down if I want anyone in.
But a boy is much too overrated. Care to try a girl?
The night is not going to end, because the morning never starts.
Its going to be a bitchin’ time.
It’ll pass. Just give me the size 4 pumps with a 6 inch heel.
Illustration : Self made.
“Do you love me?” he asks,
“Ofcourse”, I say,
“You are the person that I need”,
“But am I the person that you want?”
“But it is for the better that I don’t get the person I want”
“Who is it that you want?”
“ I want the jerk.”
“The sweet talker, with all the right moves,
He’ll make me believe I am the most beautiful one in a moment,
he’ll make me believe I am the most unimportant in another.
He’ll lust me, then leave me.
He’ll want me till I don’t want him,
and I’ll want him when he doesn’t.
It’ll be animalistic,
and it’ll be vicious.
He’ll text me deep into the night, because voice betrays sincerity.
And I’ll wait for his call till the sunrise.
I will never be his, I’ll say
Why won’t he be mine, he’ll make me say.
He knows all the tricks and all the trade secrets.
He looks into the eye and says the right things,
does the right things, and shuts up at the right places.
He makes it a moment. And I’ll be naive in that moment.
You know, the jerks are the one we crave for because the jerks are the one we grew up watching in the shining armours.
It’s not our fault that the story ends with the jerk winning the girl and we never get to see him dumping his prize for a new one.
We want to be won.
And that’s why we desire the jerks.”
“So who do you want?”
Beautiful, beautiful poetry, those words touched me.
White people dancing to Indian music and not as a part of a Bollywood movie *awesomeness*
“What you gonna do? Be hungry every single day to make other people happy” – that is dumb.
Remember the magic words: Please,Thank You and Step off Bitch. Now you can thank me for wasting precious time of your life.
She roams the city streets –
Stilettos clicking, feet hurting
She roams the web of highways –
Looking for someone, to look at her
Hair wary, eyes distant,
The smile of the party.
The whore of the night.
All that stays are the bleeding red lips,
and a scattering of the bling.
Penniless queen, royalty on high,
Running the world –
Being run by the world,
In their strings she dances
To control the eye balls.
She is there in the corner –
In your control room.
Shedding silent tears,
and laughing her noiseless laugh.
Reality misplaced by the dream,
She is seeping in
You are in the corner,
crying your helpless tears.
Photograph courtesy : Tina Patni, Diva Models Calender.
Its 12:00 a.m.
You stare vacantly at the neon light.
Your eyes are sore and tired.
Sleep probably will heal you.
You run down the street.
The bus drives away.
Why are you always late?
Shutting the world out with earphones,
You keep walking.
The next one will come soon, right?
You try to be happy.
You try to be better.
You are fucking disillusioned.
No one is happy.
You don’t deserve it either.