Turnings that make Circles.

Cancer scares me. Watching lumpfull hair falling everywhere; when you wake up in the morning, when you're in the shower, when you're going for just a smoke. You just simply get bald, so people don't eye you; and yet they do. Shiny, bald skin which everyone stares at. The peaceful child who is sleeping me scares me and yet I feel such peace when I look at him. Sometimes he smiles in his sleep. He makes me smile. The longing for someone in her heart for someone, still bruises her. Why won't it? People leave without a single word. Bruises and more bruises. She left last night, I'm now alone living with my parents. Kinda sucks. Cook the weed, roll a joint and fall asleep. "She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette"

My sister's child. Me the khala. =) And this is Moosaa.

Eloisa to Abelard In these deep solitudes and awful cells, Where heav'nly-pensive contemplation dwells, And ever-musing melancholy reigns; What means this tumult in a vestal's veins? Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat? Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat? Yet, yet I love! — From Abelard it came, And Eloisa yet must kiss the name. Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd, Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd. Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd idea lies: O write it not, my hand — the name appears Already written — wash it out, my tears! In vain lost Eloisa weeps and prays, Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. Relentless walls! whose darksome round contains Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains: Ye rugged rocks! which holy knees have worn; Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn! Shrines! where their vigils pale-ey'd virgins keep, And pitying saints, whose statues ...

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;

And. Soon, I'll be the dead black flower in your vase. And. You'll wonder why the fragrance is all gone. And. Why you can't bring it back. Hum jo yun najatay. Kash Tehr jatay

They say people come and go. And I don't disagree to it. When did you come and turn my world right? Oscillate it enough to change every beat of silence that existed into chords of laughter and let go's? Altering my hurt gifted by people's goodbyes, into scorn which made me laugh. We are worlds a part; opposites in thoughts, difference in opinions, contradicting lives. But who are you? Why do you do it? I would sit and call you my best friend, but I don't know if it's okay to. Every time I want to kill myself you make me gulp some sense. I am the hardest person to get through and yet you try. I know it won't last so long, I know it won't last forever. But please don't give up on me. Please? But, see, you already have. You gave up on me, so long ago. It's time to leave, It's time to say good-bye. Head hidden under the hoodie. Tears shiny as glitter. Could've mistaken for a Halloween costume. We've walked those streets before. But now the s...

The blue sky turns red and pours down. The oxygen is being replaced with carbon dioxide. She'll die. Cold water expands the sky, faster it pours, sooner she'll die. She see's the flower growing beautiful, writing secretly, hidden shelves. The sky feels so distant to the flower, that she wants to destroy it. She won't. Today she will let the red pour till only an empty tiny vessel is left, and the sun will come rushing to its glamorous throne. She will be gone, and the flower will still flourish, live.

There are blood linked characters from whom I run. I deny our childhood together, I deny the love that runs in me for them. It's not because of what they are. It's because I run, instead of dealing. I'm sorry guys for being what I am. I'm sorry Mom, for disappointing you. I'm sorry Aunty and Uncle.

All the roots have softened and one by one they are all falling apart. Can you save me? Before its too late? Angel wings spread over water worn wishes Guarding the dreams and the things left unsaid Here we are wandering, aimlessly roaming Lovers who linger and never forget She is everything to me, the unrequited dream, the song that no one sings, the unattainable. She's a myth that I have to believe in, all I need to make it real is one more reason. I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do When she makes me sad. Baby's got mama's eyes, she was always beautiful When you hear his voice, feel his arms around you You remember momma smiling a daddy's little girl Bad weather, cold media storm

That day in 2006, when we all sat together on the roof top of the beige building. Eating plates full of biryani, as though we would never get to sit together and eat rice again. Sadly it was the last time feeling as a single entity, as being ourselves and no barriers of pretence stood between us. It wasn't about how we looked or if we chomped or not, it wasn't about you and me, them and they. It was about us, all of us. Worrying about how distance might tear us apart, woes of how we didn't want to let go off each other. We never bothered bickering about anyone, because we didn't know anybody else around. We were like infants, not recognising anyone else except the people we saw everyday. We belonged in that fairy story, where there was a witch with her followers and her den and there Was us, the peasants; where the foliage was thick and in the corner was a pond, where orange fish swam. The forces of evil couldn't even scratch us, but the distance ripped us apart. W...

She dreams of a person, she's never seen before. In her sleep, she's untied to her Stranger, does not feel the responsibility of being faithful to a person who might never show up. This new person from her dreams is taller, dark and his eyes are overwhelmingly innocent and beautiful. In his arms, she fits perfectly. His grasp is perfect, not too tight and not to loose, just the kind where your head lies on his chest and you can hear his heart. You can hear his synchronized chest beat racing faster as you trace your fingers through his lush black hair. The background changes and they're on a sandy beach, on some island, if she was to guess a place it would be near Hawaii. His soft palms clasp her hand, he pulls her close, close enough to breathe her breath. His arms wind around her waist; she flexes her head against his topless chest. He gently pushes her chin towards him and stares into her lifeless eyes. Smiling and barely kissing her forehead, he tells he wants to swim wi...

My serenity, you don't want to listen to my bull shit and knowing that particular fact, I still talk to you, isn't that just fucking pathetic? I know, I am pathetic and that disgusts me even more. I loathe myself more, each day. Why can't you fucking say, you don't want my crap. You don't love me, you don't have to listen to me. You're not my mother. I know everything there is to know about you, I know things about you that you don't even know, I know. But you don't know me. Even if I would look into yours eyes, screaming everything there is about to know about me, you wouldn't know me. I want to write to you, and somehow I wish it would mean something to you, of all the things that have happened, of all the things that never changed . If I ever muster up the courage of going so far away from you, that you would long to hear my voice, long to hear of me from someone, anyone. But you see, it's what my heart has made my mind create this illusi...

Anonymous, this is what I wrote on a piece of paper, one day. I wrote this on the 25th of June, I think. Grey old car, a silly girl with apparent impish behaviour, sits in the driver's seat, thinking where to drive next; perhaps a left turn. To much happened in this week. Too much said about her immaculate love for someone, heart bled open to him again; someone who didn't even say, "I love you too". I hate you, because you're not anything like you used to be. I love you, because you're my everything and more; you're my safe ground, you are the person I can talk garrulously about the things I want to hide six feet under, you're the one I can tell my woes of sleep because you're the holding my hand. Your the reason of my sanity and insanity . 25th June. Happy Birthday. Here are the things I was supposed to say on the birthday card I got got for you, but didn't because my 14 years old best friend doesn't exist in your soul anymo...

Stars illuminating the darkened night sky, like drops of blood in a drained heart. Every cell's every nucleus dessicated of energy, to rebuild, to survive. Everyone has a moment in life, where they're happier than ever. When your captivated with so much life that, when someone tells you, it's going to end one day, you don't believe them; you don't believe in death. When I'm with you, I feel like I can die and that would be alright, alright. Breathe in and breathe out, steps followed in order, or could be in reverse, Breathe out, breathe in. Madness is a gift, I own. I can drive for miles in the heat and not think about anything, I even forget to look at the person's face sitting next to me, even though they're audible. Betrayal by one person I never expected. Yes, blamed without evidence, but now I have evidence. I hate you, but your not worth that either. I don't think of you, only the times you repeatedly hurt me, and I hear of it. Strangers occup...

It'll be night soon, the children in the park will notice the shades of grey turn to black. A sadness will burden their hearts, they'll know its time to go home. They don't want the time to run so fast, ironically it will. Worried mothers will shout from far, "Chalo ghar chalo dair ho gai hai." Heavy hearted children will ask for just five more minutes. "Please, Ami paanch minit aur." But eventually they will leave that park, not knowing if tomorrow will bring them back here. She'll watch the time fly by faster than usual, because, his time is what she needs. She doesn't want the time to pass by, but ironically it will. She'll beg her God, to give her five more minutes with him, they'll too pass in two. Fatefully , he'll be gone. Not knowing if she'll ever see him again. "Allah forever more minutes please?"

My head fucking hurts. I fucking hate you and how you have the ability to control my life. Your fancy words, your fancy love for someone else. I came with a good mind of bitching the world out. Of bitching you out, of bitching myself out. That was till the point, I read somewhere " I love you so much Michelle". Those were your words. Now I just want to cry. I still hate you, because. The wind plays flute Through the cellar door And on my window sill Plays a sad old song I hope tonight You will touch my hair And draw ghosts on my back

A last hug, the last patting, a last kiss left on the two toned fur. Didn't want to let it go. Just one more day please. They manipulate you, break you down to pieces and pay you for your tears. But it's so small. You say good bye. chali gai . M messages saying, be strong. But how can I? When everything I've loved leaves or is taken away. Please can I keep it, it won't affect me. You rest your head against the window panel, and the tears flow out, propelled backwards by the wind, as the car accelerates. My head is exploding, my heart aches. I love bluey . Please let me keep it.

"Every night I empty my heart, but by morning it's full again Slow droplets of you sleep in through the night's soft caress At dawn I overflow with thoughts of us An aching pleasure that gives me no respite Love cannot be contained The neat packaging of desire splits asunder Spilling crimson through my days Long, languishing days that are now bruised tender with yearning Spent searching for a fingerprint, a scent, a breath you left behind." - Shamim Sarif. When I read this, all I could think was of you. How much time has altered you, into someone who hardly cares. Would you cry if I died today? All I could think was of the time you left, my lovely Orange days of August that turned to rust, and with time even the rust plating eroded away. Everytime I message you, I hope there is a little more you would say than what you mean literally, but hopes are meant to be thrashed; cruelly brought back to reality. When you said you had written som...

Contempt loves the silence It thrives in the dark With fine winding tendrils That strangle the heart

The building that has yet to be completed looks strange from inside here. Taller than my house, taller than my small body. There hasn’t been rain, neither has there been a drop of humidity in the air. She scares me, I try to take care instead I’m being pushed a million miles away. My hand was soaking in oil, I lit the lighter with the same hand, and my hand got burnt. She tells me my writing needs sentence formation, I told her she wouldn’t like what I wrote. I knew the comment she would pass. I don’t know me. The wind blows here often; I hate our miles, Trans Atlantic distance. You didn’t wish my birthday this year. I thought of you again. You murdered me in my dreams again. I think I miss you again, but I don’t. I think I miss our memories, the way I ran after you, just to be with you. You don’t think of me, ever. Someday you will. Someday, you will miss our first kiss. Someday you will miss the way I wrapped my arms around your bare back and how no one can ever make...

They say things I don't want to believe. They say things that would hurt you, as they hurt me. Please let me in and tell me they are not true. Tell me that is not you, what they proclaim you to be. Tell me you love. Come back to haunt me. I wanna go back to the start. "Don't I can Take care of myself."

She closes her eyes just to remember your face. She keep them forcefully opened so that you don't permeate her thoughts. Ironically, that has no affect, you live within her. You are her parameters and she only wishes she could be yours. In the forced open eyes, tears well up and trickle down onto her study desk, with regularly regular tip tip sounds. Do you ever wonder how hard you crashed her world into the concrete ground? And how every time she breathes, it is in hopes of being able to see your face again; if not today, it could be someday. She aches to see you smile and longs to be able to outline the corners of lips from her fingertips. You missed her sun dust-goldenish hoops she wore, you missed how divinely they glimmered, but only as a reflection from her face. How this new person is rapidly wrapping her world around his fingers; and she, knowingly, is getting trapped in his womb; partially scared, partially sad. New person keeps ranting, " Old person is lucky, luckier...