- eternity is my last stop
losing all the developing vision
of a democratic dude
cruising for plasma membrane
of dying soul via microscope
- rain was supposed to tell me
the mystery of how the hell
get fire extinguisher that too
when they don’t permit the
existence of dying ash
- true was avoiding poetic front for long
I guess foot long now I know
it’s an inevitable gesture
of high five with linguistics
leading crucifix
- I see silence talking to violence
I see violence stalking bylanes
I see bylanes crawling my aims
I see my aims falling to my pains
- the close up of silence seems too heavy to hold
I lost the vision by displacement
physics offered me some theories
I am done with breweries
- poetry is not about the poet
or the subject on which you are writing
it’s all about how beautifully one can
blabber without losing attention.
- surrounding- hangout place for shelter
makes me more moron than travelling aimlessly
on mumbai roads I must migrate habit to habits
- ya so I was lost in the dense memories of raining blood
all night I keep getting the history floods in
my eyes I rest pledge of waiting bus
- there is cut in my writing butt
I feel it stops the flowing words,
imagination keep getting displaced
before committing to cigarette buds.
WORDS MY BIRDS 