Yes

I have a freckled need for convolution.It is almost necessary to deny my defence
and at the same time provide to its selfless logic.How easy, is it to say NO? Easiest of all things.
I have found it the easiest thing to do in life.At times it shatters,every structure,underpinning a history of existence.But my mind,still urges the secretarial worship of paradigms.It is not astonishing,hence, to view
death and conscience on a collision course.It is probably the same as having the colon and consequence
in the same line:YES as a renomination for loss.Losses that are now impossible to recount.Life repeats itself,Yes,in real? NO.Perhaps,all revisits are negative,when condensed under a progressive lens.Positive thus,bears the negative-the negative being our only identity, in isolation.My repetition of ideas(thoughts i have about my thoughts) is defaming for the heart,because i like to speak freely and write attractively.I've not only perfected preoccupation,i own it.

Flight

Midway through the flight from Delhi to Pune,
an epileptic bulge seemed to push me deeper

and deeper into my seat.Figuring your maleficent value
in a coach full of two hundred people, at twenty thousand

feet above the ground is extremely challenging.It is
probably less challenging however,to do it wrong.

As I murmured to myself-never again,the coach
rumbled-emanating from both sides a sound of

debilitating horror.Animated gestures of bladder
activity can make you nervous:so can the darkness

beyond the little window with faint lights
visible in it,probably as some consolation,

for the vague point of reference.I vicariously
closed my eyes,blacking out the immediate

area of danger,and unfocussed I reveled
in the thoughts of being untouchable by past

misery at such a height.

Last in heaven

It has not been more than four months,and vital signs of life
can often be found affixed to the refrigerator door.
There will soon to be the delineation of spaces to
walk in-settings of a law-a new kind of law.
The decibel levels are set according to mutual
disagreements,a routine for the wind to follow-almost
as strictly as mine.The windows chosen out of invalid
discourse may eventually misshape our lives,but chances
of that happening are as vague as my concern for them
in the first place.There is no better way to stay in line,
than drawing it yourself-everything but that.The writing,in
an acute sense,is really never on the wall-rather a deafening
silence of incredulity,of refusal to doubt.The sun alone
tips the edges of this flower brown.Within,it is all red and bare.
There isn't another place I would rather be at, for
a million years,as replacement value becomes
a metrical injustice.In between addresses of the mind
and heart alike,postal and poetic threads intertwine.
Her lips pour,triumphant words like "forever",
when in her mind she travels as far as "now".

The summer bucket of love

Clouds
shepherd-
we are
    in thoughts;
hopefully not 
         outnumbered,
       by relaxations.
Along roads and windows
   we have rolled,
 some with broken
   glasses,broken skies
where to the
 wandering trees
         we were stars

And I wrote about us

unlike queer flowers

    we,thorn-like 

blew side to side-

    ashes

 in telluric tubes,

          arms to pillow,
  hearts to wrestle
        blind,like birds
 under a bucket.
    eyes gave us measure,
some pieces
     of the mirror I sleep
beside, and what is
   left of it, in your way

Crisis of doubt

Imagine
 error
without reasonable doubt,
  and it looks
good ,    abruptly
 they say
mountains-even
the metaphorical kind-
            inevitably,
               make you go backwards,
and turn horses
  into men ,who
 would
rather undergo surgeries
     than crises.

Ward-3

Seated in this chair;my mattress
now breathing,reimbursement
in the fact that not one person
died in my room this week.There
was the unusual flailing of the
arms,and some difficult groans
by the man who shits by his bed.
But ward-3 made it through
last night as well.I hear there
were 2 next door- you wouldn't
really call them neighbours. Because
for once they are unwilling to
receive your mail,or hold your
keys.You don't want postmen
making mistakes at the hospital.
It is midnight;men and women
dart in opposite directions,other
side of the window.The random
appearance of a person who
looks like-isn't scooting to save
a life,is actually,relieving.For two
hours that has not happened,and
I think it is awfully unquiet elsewhere.
Besides,you do not find aggressively
apathetic visitors,outside a bar,
in the middle of the night.Here,the
moon,the night,the dawn matter only
in a passive sense.Mornings in
ward-3 will see attendants,return
to their jobs.Hopefully,from exile.