sense and conversation

i thought
they were
talking to each other

over a coffee table
they were
not facing each other
they might be in love
they might want to speak facing
but they couldn't

sometimes
the conversation
made sense
sometimes
it dint

and then
i saw they
never knew each other
they were
talking on their own
mobile phones
one looking at a spot
on the wall
other watching
people crossing the road

and i also knew
if i heard
that conversation
to someone they knew
sometimes
it made sense
sometimes
it dint.

seek or hide?

many words uttered
you spoke no i
spoke too that means it
was we, days nights minutes
seconds and a few
of them each sent
us back to our rooms
with no windows there
silence plays music

shed all that skin
shed the fucking curves
on your forehead
lets play some game
why not hide and seek?

it was all hide hide
and escape
the door cracks a little
while it opens
and on the blinding first beam
we
see
that
we were.

Days of the sun

i did look for
a poem in
a twenty seven
years of
days that
started with the sun
rising and ended
with it setting every
other day i waited
for the next
sweating breathless
afternoon
a silly orange luminescence
a clown outside my
white plain
windowpane a twenty
seven years and
will i ever
find a poem
in my days?

A light dislocation

on a bench
blue sea
red checkered shirt
you
look around
air boiled road
you look
waited
on the bench.

across the road
i see you
seek me
i see the sea
blind you the beam
spying
my fingers daze
a light ray
cross
slow
on gravity
i float
the ground a feather heap
green like grass
i see you
a still
a halo sun behind
a curved moon.

i float on a feather green ground
and then
the light ray
touch
the blueness out
an ugly yellow,
you turn to me.

long time isn't it?

what has happened to me?

hmmm.
am happy, yet confused as ever.

where to be?
what to do?

and all the more sillier questions like
what is life for me
what is love
and what others have succeeded
so far
is to make myself
feel a lot
guiltier than i should be.
or why should i be?

i can't communicate this enough.
but guilt lies there
a snake that gets bigger and bigger with time
within me
and refuses to move out
or just, even, move.

it fails me.

i have this tendency to...

well,
i have lots of tendencies.

but this one is regarding
my tendency to say
i am happy.

but
i don't know if that assuring myself
helped me in anyway.
i think it helped me
only to compromise with what i really dint want
with my life, my relationships.

i'm slowly learning to say
what i feel.
it's tough...

how will the other feel?
what would they think about me?
will saying what i feel
do anything good to what i really feel?
and a hundred other questions..

slowly..

straying.

it was never my problem.
because
i always was.

this is the time
it creeps through my vains
it's the pain
i've caused others.

just this
simple absurd disorientation
it includes
my absence of love for myself,
my absence of a perception
my haste.

i am sorry,
i love you.

when someone dies.

he died out of nonsense.
merely
simply
dead

so
i tell myself
it's just
not necessary
to believe
he lived.

his existence
touched me
embraced me
in a very
unhuman way.