I know you won’t remember in the morning, when I speak my mind.

I know you won’t remember in the morning, when I speak my mind.

An exception, liability, outcast, out of league and much more but not someone whom you ask to stay.

  After our obvious deeds. I feel our young and blue bodies interwined as we lay. I can inhale you from you hair, felt so damn homely. 

As the night gets youthful, I talk about my friends, family, my aspirations and beliefs as we spoon. I can feel your breath in my arm, head rested on my chest. I feel such a man.
I tell you eveything i am and i am not. You say, “never realized you actually do talk alot” we both laugh at that.

I tell her all my truth. My sinful truth, my ugly truth.      

The more I dive between the future and the past. I see her fading away as I watch her bored hefty eyelids shutting down in a slow pace with her pupils dancing beneath them, dreaming other things but us.

I understand,  hence I stare at her and quit my blather about our non-existent relationship. Afterall, I was an exception.   A needy exception indeed.

I suddenly feel the heavy pit in my stomach. My intution tells me to get out of there.    Correction: sneak out. I recollect my mess of a wardobe from the floor.

Everything moved fast as she didnt smell home anymore. It was bizzare for me to stay out of my bed this late.
Without even glancing a last look back i sneak out. Get a cab. Cry while I returned back home. It felt vunerable to open up, didnt fancy the idea of being myself and not being cared enough. 

I get home, mum chokes me with her love and concern. I dont make eye contact. Brush my teeth and disappear in my comfortable sheets and fluffy pillow. Nothing feels more homely than this. 

A place where I musnt need to keep my hopes low. A place where expectation is dead while the hope is a ghost.  No one toys with the hopeless.  

Once a liability, always a liability.

Half of my wardrobe is on your bedroom.

Half of my wardrobe is on your bedroom.

Sparks flew from across the room, jet lights of green, red and blue when our eyes got locked in the midst of people giggling, fooling around, dancing, whispering and moving. 
I felt the mutuality through glances. Call it luck or something else; it seemed as if my dumb, horrible interpreter brain was baptized with some right ass intuitions which might as well be super wrong but I wasn’t able to deny its worthiness.

So, I plucked some of the courage I never knew I had and moved across the room wrestling through pushes and blocking from party animal hypocrites and their sweats, just to follow her and find her.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I sneak in a scream-whisper in her ears.

 Technically it was screaming but the loud EDM made it sound like something that it wasn’t, a whisper.

She smiled and nodded at me.

Does that mean she is interested? Aside from the physical battle I just experienced, I create a battle of my own at the back of my mind, wrestling my thoughts and calculating the permutation and combination of her smile, nod and half hoping she orders something cheap which can be covered from the budget I have left in my pockets. Yes pockets!
Well, what do you expect from a guy who doesn’t even own a wallet?

Luckily, I was saved from the eternal misery of embarrassment as she ordered some cheap beers. Apparently, whiskeys aren’t her thing. BINGO

Friends always tell me be yourself in a date but I have a tendency to run towards the opposite direction. A few drinks in and I almost forget who I am. I mean not in a literal sense I still know who I am but I don’t know who I am. You get me right?

Felt like I was channeling into someone I am not; a hypocrite. I shake my head ask myself, “What the fuck is happening?” but the stuffs running through my veins makes me too busy to answer. Instead I start babbling doing quite opposite of what I am not supposed to do.

I tell her all my lies, my best lies, my awesome lies. Something similar to “once I ate my teapot, tablecloth and tongue all at the same time.”

After our bits of conversation and lots of laughing, it hits me that she inclines handsome men but for me she was making an exception. 

So, I let loose, let my intuition do the talking and ignore everything around me. (If you are pondering on what let loose means. For me it means ignoring the deadline of arriving home at 8 and the fact that I couldn’t be in peace if I don’t reach my “own bed” till 10:30)
Focus on her an involuntary sound commands.
Main goal: impress her.
Basically, get approval from someone whom I’ve known for 30 minutes through the jokes that aren’t even mine.

I clearly get under the influence of being king and queen of the weekend i.e. live a lie.

We talk about an hour. She invites me to stay over her place. How the hell could I refuse my new found self and VAT-TAX-HOMEWORK-RE-CHECK session? 

My intuition told me that it was my turn to nod and smile. My heart skips it’s beat.

“I need your love and I’m dying of the rush cause my heart ain’t got enough”

Yours, Truly disastrous.

Yours, Truly disastrous.

Sorry, there is nothing pure about the things we do.

You fight so hard, so much,

Not to be seen, loved or heard.

 

Then, someone looks at you differently,

And it’s fine.

To give it in, tear it down, stripping it all.

 

But,

 

Vulnerability makes you loose it like shit.

 

They say, “Give it to the fire.”

Your pride, guilt, lust, teeth and yourself………….

 

She spits fire as she gets close

My skin screams, ignites;

I feel the screech of fear and pleasure

 

I run away from fear.

I run back for pleasure.

Pushing up my toes,

Wanting more.

 

We work it out like sun and moon,

I only glow when I am reflecting off of you.

Or, at least we believed so.

 

Guess what! You should know about us more.

No, we shouldn’t.

Or maybe we should.

 

There are perfect graceless nights when you stay.

We suffer from amnesia,

Forget about the distance monster.

 

In the morning,

You go away because you need to.

And I understand because I have to.

 

There is nothing pure about any of this.

 

 

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Sorry, I was never born to drown.

 

We sit down to eat,

We have nothing to say

 

The breakfast gets as cold as our feelings.

 

Sorry, I was too busy seeing happy people on other table.

Sorry, I was too busy swallowing the big lump in my throat.

 

With that follows scream,

Screams that form words, “psychopath, sociopath and foul”

 

Then, you and I leave.

We return back,

Blame it to the long distance monster.

 

But What about the monsters we tuck under our beds?

Our tongues get tied up as we hide each other’s demons.

 

There was nothing pure about us.

We were together for a summer,

After that it was just 9 month’s long influence.

 

I wish it wasn’t influence

I wish it was love.

 

So, you came back

You are here now

I ask, “For how long?”

“Summer break!” she says

 

You are here now

And the perfect graceless nights are merely obligations.

 

We are nothing more than jewelries.

Easily worn and taken off.

 

Told us we were like sun and moon.

Every night I live and you die.

And it gets eclipsed when we meet.

 

You shouldn’t have trusted me.

You know how moon works,

It changes everyday.

so do I.

 

I know I tore you open with my ignorance

We both know we tried to feel anything at all.

We failed to recreate graceless nights similar to our remembrance.

 

I know it is gonna hurt.

So, I will run away first.

 

Soon enough,

Someone will love us.

But that someone isn’t us.

 

She wishes to never meet me, she knows.

I am falling back to the dark hole I came from

And I never felt this safe to curl up while expectation snows.

 

So, fuck you!

 

Dark hole was never a place.

Until I created it.

People call it being alone.

I call it “not drowning into someone else’s shit”

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We are hollow like the bottles that we drank.

We are hollow like the bottles that we drank.

I look up at my phone like every morning.

Instagram filled with fabrication of documented lies or I like to believe it that way. I just linger around the idea of using the app day planner but I know what will happen through the day.

I have been living almost the same day everyday since past few years. Which my mum gladly likes to refer as “running out of time” phone blows up with texts from my folks for meeting up as usual.

I find my shoes, get my jacket and try to get some money from mum and make my way out. My mum stops me to blame me for everything under the sun but lends me what I need for a typical summer day of my life.

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Summer days are longer and well summery.
Must be the reason why we feel so warm, youthful, lethargic and timeless even though we are younger as a minute.

We don’t need any policies, no out dated stereotypical rules. We know we are the coolest.

Getting tipsy, running around on summer nights, playing stupid dare games.
We roam around the roads where the houses don’t change; we watch each other tirelessly trying to grow up and we effortlessly fail, we mock at that because it’s humorous.

It must be humorous otherwise the alternative would be something else related with guilt of failure.

Eyes get rolled when people try to shove mannerisms down our throat. They think we dumb? We don’t know that? Everyone does. We just choose to be diva queen in tears who just don’t care.

Eyes study the floor when they boast about their studies of business and human bodies. Makes us wonder why people talk so much!

Eyes won’t stop bashing skulls but still they don’t quit their blathers.
They and we talk like there is actually something to say but the truth is we are just killing time.
Cause we are never done throwing useless words at each other. Words summed up to sentences that never really hits but ends up with burned throats.

I am glad that we stayed to feel timeless, hopeless and useless rebels. We want this summer to end and never end at the same time.

I return with the same old feet and shoes, with jacket swinging in my hand. I try to slip as quietly as possible but the booze won’t let me.

Mum’s voice rings, “who’s over there?” A minute or so flies she is standing right in front of me hands crossed against her chest with a frown blended with anger. I know that look on her face; I see it everyday on every summer night. I don’t like being choked by my mother’s love. So I try and ignore.

She just shakes her head in disbelief and walks away murmuring something about responsibilities, growing up and being tired.

I produce a short giggle moreover a yelp.
I am tired of myself too.
I am Tired of people, Tired of life, and Tired of expectations.

So, I decide to disappear because I have to breathe for another summer day of my life. A year long summer to survive. I try to disappear into my dark room staring the darker ceiling.

We are hollow. But we believe we are brave.

(listen to lorde’s 400 lux)

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You are like my wine stained shirt that I can not, should not wear.

You are like my wine stained shirt that I can not, should not wear.

I know better at this point.I must, because I  cannot go through all this. Not again. Not with you.

You are the high tides of clear blue water which never stays constant nor that it should. Otherwise that would be unnatural.

Yet somewhere inside me I have this slightest bit of tendency towards incase. Incase you notice the change, incase you want to break the natural, because I don’t have no guts to do it.

Lucky ones are only held more than just a friend.

I just happen to fall under the unlucky.

An unlucky who wishes you would just consider the million reasons I give you everyday to just acknowledge the incase, the alternative of being a still blue water; staying in, holding on, canoodling with the unlucky because months and months of back and forth just cuts more deep.

You see that is a rare case i.e. unlucky turning into the lucky ones.

A rare case that tears up my expectations, manipulates my decisions, makes me fall on my knees. A rare case that makes me an unlucky fool pondering over a smile, a touch hoping it meant more than it is supposed to. Most of all it is frustrating to see myself standing back where I always stood before.

It is like I have lost the ability of being mobile, lost the ability of being heard as my lungs are filled with water and my screams are muffled under water.

I know you are happy now with your lucky man and last thing you would want is me barging into the places where I am not expected.

So, I decide to stay out because I know you will refuse to stay in.

Your attention is all I want but not like this. I want us to cross that delicate line of friend zone but isn’t possible when you patch up suddenly with someone with whom you have a relationship younger as a minute.

Then it isn’t even your fault. How can you answer something I never asked?

Eventually, I will have to let it all go. But you are like my favorite wine stained shirt which can neither be seen going to waste nor can be worn. 

This was my twisted love on the straight pathway built out of friendzone.

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Man enough?

Man enough?

(Join us to normalize modern masculinity. Let’s just get rid of these gender stereotypes.)

Maybe I was around 5 years old. My daddy had bought me a new 4 wheeler pedal bike. I was able to learn it as quick as possible and then after few weeks my dad got rid of the small wheels at the back of my ride. 

I was terrified with this modification. I felt that it was somehow wrong but my dad insisted it wasn’t. 

So, I did as he told. I sat on my cycle with out my deepest consent and I looked up at him with a frown of disbelief.

He returned the warmest smile and said, “Go on I will be grabbing right back at your seat” I said, “I can’t do it!” and all I heard was “just pedal.” So, I pedaled as slow as I could but my heart was beating faster than anything. 

I was constantly screaming “Don’t let go yet! I am not ready” But little did I know my dad wasn’t behind me. When realization hit me hard I lost my balance and fell down.
I could feel my tears running down the top of my nose. It felt a bit tingly but in a weird way. From distant I see my dad running towards me with a little box. I knew that box had a brown liquid which would give my wound a burning sensation. I never understood why my parents would give me box of pain instead of box of healing. 

My dad came up to me with that “I got it all under control” look. He wore his spectacles like he wears before doing any important thing and he started cleaning my wound with the brown liquid. My agitation increased and I probably cried louder but my dad said, “Don’t cry. This will just take a minute! You are big boy right? High five, High five me. Say you’re a man: ‘I’m a man!’” 

At the end of the dressing session I was whimpering, with screwed up face flashing anger, gritting my teeth and pounding my chest, barking “I’m a man”

We get that society has pressurized women to look and act in a certain way for centuries. But how many of us has ever realized that men are also expected to look and act in a certain manner? It is depressing as a man to verify and re-verify masculinity, our own identity.

 It is funny how a set of unwritten rules have affected us this much. The responsibilities with bunch of pros and cons are deep rooted in people’s mind. We are expected to be that young angry men with the sportsmanship on the top. There is a liability for men to be presented in a certain ways otherwise they are assumed as un-masculine by all adolescents, pre-adolescents and even adults sometimes.

So, I want to talk about how people and we men ourselves throw this subject under a rug just because we are too ashamed to deal with this.

With women lashing out on banners like, “RISE OF WOMEN” “BETTER THAN MEN” is only widening the gender gap between men and women. I guess this is the time where women should give some space, cut some slack. Just enough with “he is men” and “she is women” I guess this is the high time for young people to be relevant with the modern masculinity, Knowledge of equality that should be passed down to our upcoming generation.

If women are encouraged with being emotionally honest than men should be also encouraged equally to recognize and speak about the spiritual damage they are suffering from years and years. With the media projecting the same heroic stereotypes over and over again. 

We are obliged to form an image of an ideal man that says in a bold letter, “WE ARE MEN WE DON’T FEEL ANYTHING!” Examples of these destructive behaviors range from the socially approved, such as workaholism, to the criminally punishable, such as drug addiction and violence. Men are twice as likely as women to suffer from rage disorders.

Society has bunch of unattainable and unobtainable standard in store for us. This is our time to get past through the out dated ideas of definition of “real man”. Real man is someone who accepts his flaws. Listens to others and let himself speak out his emotions. We just need to stop searching stereotypes in men rather we need to live and let live. Stop slaughtering of young men in the name of proving their own identity.

Everything under the sun frightens me.

Everything under the sun frightens me.

Truth runs wild, vast as ocean, greater than the constellation, Truth runs wild deep as life, pure as water fall and fierce as forest fire.

Truth runs wild and free. 

The truth that I only have. My truth…..

I  was walking along the streets, I dont remember what time it was but I knew it was dark. I found myself heading towards the jog spot. Why was I here? I made advances to my so called destination, I could feel and listen the crunches as I walked over those fallen leaves and twigs. 

The neighborhood was awkwardly silent . I imagined aliens abducting everyone overnight and shook my head in disbelief of my childish thoughts. 

Afterall it was normal, the silence! What would I expect to see at this hour anyway but somehow I knew the silence was hurtful rather than peaceful.

 I felt this sudden urgency inside me. I felt the silence was trying to swallow me. I tried to get away from this. I wanted to scream, Just scream any form of words but I found myself struggling to choose the words. I asked myself the most queer question, “What would I scream?” This question just intruiged my urgency even more. I felt like the faceless monster of silence trying to grip  me.

 As my adrenalin accelerated I reacted by running. My footsteps thumped over those fallen leaves and twigs bringing distruption in their initial position I guess. It was still dark and afterall everything was just merely a guess! As I advanced my speed the surrounding around me oddly enough managed to be more darker and it eventually ended up being pitch black.

 I engulfed huge smoulders of air into my lungs as if someone has blocked my trachea but I still didn’t dare to stop nor look back. I ran faster, I ran till my feets were numb. 

Suddenly, I stopped. I stopped running and fell on my knees almost like surrending. I wasn’t consious anymore, I was panting constantly, reaching out for air. 

I felt a shot of pain inside me. The pain wasn’t a sudden one. It was just like it’s been there the whole time, it was me who failed to realize. I felt like someone was pinning on me or or a heavy weight was on my chest. I wanted it off me so badly. 

I struggled to reach out to something but I failed, I tore open my jacket hoping for some relief. I wanted to scream again but this time I felt drops of water dripping on my hands wetting my cheeks. those muffled screams managed to come in the form of tears. In no time I was brusting into tears and wailing like a blithering idiot.”



After math
 The dark hour refers to the upcoming time in my life and the silence monster is the responsibilities that come along as the age of innocence strips off.

I feel numb. I see my life, my plans crashing down because of only and only one reason. They are non existent. They dont exist because half of the time my mind is juggling between hope of possibilities which are often shattered by the harsh slap of reality. 

Reality hurts.

They say, “The truth behind the life I want is unreal But  the life that I tend to want is real.”

Isn’t easy as it seems. Isn’t as worthy to jeopardise everything but breathing yet stoping to live isn’t easy either.

Walls of responsibility can’t be teared down, It can escaped though. But isn’t esacaping an act of cowardice.

So, I am trying to search my truth in the wild. Trying make peace with it,with life because it is all I have, all I need, and all I can do.

“Pack yourself a toothbrush dear
Pack yourself a favorite blouse
Take a withdrawal slip, take all of your savings out
Cause if we don’t leave this town
We might never make it out
I was not born to drown, baby come on”