Waiting

It’s an art

Waiting for someone

Someone you love

It’s an art 

When they lie

When you call them to check

How close they are

“Five minutes away”

“Just getting down from the bus

Or train”

Love

Love makes you lie

I can feel

Their heart racing

Somewhere in a Subway train

Or in a local bus

Far away from five minutes

Time isn’t moving fast enough
And I know

The lie

And the love in it

An Abundance of fear

To not to lose me

Don’t worry

I have a lot of patience

I know you will come

Eventually

And the time in between that

Is relative

Relative to our love you will never know

And I will never show

Nightmares about a nightmare

It’s been days

And I am still having nightmares

Still seeing things 

My fast beating heart is faster

I am scared to fall asleep

Suddenly

My happy dreams are gone

That’s the price I must pay

For not trusting

My already delirious mind

For wanting more than that

For being brave

To avoid a great war

For running away from a battle field

Towards something more than that
I had my sleep

After everyday struggle

With people around me

Whom I am bound to satisfy

With future and failure 

What I am bound to rectify

With my past.

Now my sleep scares me

And now

When I woke up

After a nightmare about a nightmare

Even waking up scares me now.

Selfish for love

There were couple of times

When I wanted to die

I tried too

For nobody

Is it okay 

To die for myself?

There are million times

I wanted to live

I am living

For nobody 

But myself

I have everything 

The happy things

The complete and utter sense

Of how to live

Unless I am getting disturbed

Being forced to have something extra

In my complete life

Lovers, friends

I don’t need that

They don’t know how to love me

They don’t know how to die

And I am too in love

With me

To replace me 

With some lesser version of love

Sometimes I wanted to stop

Shut down my place and go

Away.

But I had to love myself more

All those lesser love

Needed healing.

A time to remember

Friends are leaving

And friends are coming

They will come 

And they will go

Leaving memories

Happy and sad

The whole life 

Is about leaving something

If I think back

I left nothing behind

No memories 

To cherish

No love 

To miss

Or times to remember

I left nothing in anyone’s existence

What should I call it?

Failure?

Or my biggest achievement

Sealdah, creeps

Oh man, what a touch can do

Make people go crazy

Losing their mind

And body
I wanted to say so many things

Narrate it in the most possible way

I have been narrating creeps

Around me

Stalking me touching me

Following me

But oh man, 

What a touch can do

Dragging down man

Like I am holding a leash 

In my hand

Which accidentally touched his

With hunger in his eyes

Waiting for me to finish

Buying a packet of cigarettes

With hope to touch me again

Be the bud of cigarette in between my lips

I just smashed with my foot

And waiting once more

Next to my window seat

Of the bus

Til it’s round tires started Wheeling

Moving

Oh man, what a machine can do

Taking me away

Towards relief.

A goodbye note to all

I don’t always feel the same way

I am not obliged to.

I feel sad and I feel happy

I have had a lot of laugh when needed

And sometimes anxiety

I know things won’t go

The way I want

Quiet peacefully

People have their own lives

They have to live it

Play the part

Of human existence

But I don’t force it to anyone else

Neither my happiness

All are mine

It stays inside

I am here

If only I am not

Being self content 

Is like a nice trip

I don’t wanna share it

I am here

If I find the distance

To maintain

Or let’s part 

Let’s have a life 

Away from each other

An interview

So life goes on

Like back in school days

“I appreciate you

How honest you are

But don’t be”

Gotta get marks

Gotta earn money

My honesty is in my way

Too primitive

Ancient and antique

And the world moved too fast

So life goes on

Like everyone else

Slow pace

I know I will reach somewhere

Just gotta make my way

Like back in school days.

Wordrace 

My answers are mostly short and incomplete

Questions don’t scare me

Or motivate me to go on

To complete my sentence

Or my thoughts

People ask questions because they have to

We must talk

Keep the conversation going

That’s how love starts

And that’s how it ends
I am scared most of the time

That I will run out of words

The very little I know

Will be more little

Can’t keep up 

With this fast moving phase of words

I am losing the rat race

Slowly

I will be out 

Of the ground beautifully measured

And mowed

Painted lines and winners trophy

I don’t have enough space 

To keep it

I must go back

To the field

Where grasses have permission to grow

And no one to speak.

The art of losing people and finding me

Phase two.

I was seventeen, in a relationship

With a man, who didn’t love me

But loved the idea control

And submission.

And I, in love with the idea

Of escape.

From phase two:

I was abused, 

Sexually or physically

It didn’t bother me

What bothered was the layer

The lie inside it

Some called me mother,

And justified it

Some called me sister.

Needed escape from everything 

Full of layers

To something which was clear

Love, partner what could go wrong?

But phase two.
He left me in middle of a street 

I didn’t know

Which way to go

Found a way back home

Found a way back home

From the life I submitted

Wasn’t mine at all

And suddenly I was alone

And happy

Grown up.

Phase three:

But growing up is just 

A word

It never stops

Losing your best friend,

And finding someone 

But pain killers aren’t the cure 

For cancer

It just soothes you away

What’s lost is lost

Forever

One day one friend will ask you to stay

When you are not prepared

Next day,

When you are

They will welcome you

With mouth 

But not with heart

And you are back on the street again

With dizzy head

Delirious mind

Stoned.

For the ultimate Phase, home:

Leaving home after a war

For peace

And coming back home

With a bigger war

And finally talking

I think I found my way

Like every time

I grew up a little more

And yes,

Lost everyone

But I guess that makes sense

You have to shorten the pencil

Everytime you sketch

The art of losing it

Is the art of making art.

Simulation

Suddenly, everything was right

Every second, every pace

All seemed like a graph

And paths were subtly chosen

For me with appropriate moments

It seemed unreal

Surreal

I was hallucinating

Being stoned had nothing to do with it

It was reality drugged me

Dragged me.

If I stayed five minutes longer

Not winning my fear

It would have been different I guess

Embarrassing

Having stupid fight 

With mothers

Because night is a taboo

I think I needed to talk

Needed to have that fight

Needed to know the clarity

Of everything

What goes on 

Deep down in the name of love

Possession

Devour us completely

In rain soaked night

The empty Streets

There are always better places

With no love

There are always better existence

Without possession

And there,

No place to go anything wrong.