It rained today

P.C. – to the rightful owner

It rained today
and I went a little tipsy.
Sloshed under the influence
of my liquor-coated old diary
when those words had me smiling.

I sat under a little parasol
where the rays of sun faded
just like my senses.
Tiny droplets roared at me
for my teacup-sobriety,
easily-achievable goals.

Splashes of rain scattered all over
hitting me hard with whisky-fied realities
“If your dream ain’t scaring you
it ain’t a ‘dream’ enough”
Written in bold letters
in my boozed up diary.

Where’s the sense for
being in senses at all times.
Your imperfect pipe-dream craziness,
uncontrollable thread of imagination,
a conscience full of ideas,
a craving to build something
is what makes you, you.

It’s better to be drunken
enough in your blazing dreams
than to sail sober in the same waters
sprouting drudgery work
and routine-y results.

Rains drew in the curtains
leaving the reasonable world out
to reach my half-sewed,
legless dreams
wanting to reach
to its zenith.


To the one who’s afraid of taking risks/ or changes happening around. I know you must have felt overwhelming by all those people who seem to have understood life like the back of their hand and you are still figuring out what music you want to listen to right now — Finding undefined comfort in your non-escapism.
You want to try new songs but end up listening to the same one because of the familiarity it provides. I know we get so attached to our safe places, our refuge that changing even the sleeping-bed troubles us. At the same time you admire people who are always willing to take risks, the boldness to accept or rather bring the change.
What if I told you, you already are on the brink of glass full of risks all the time. The first time you walked you risked yourself getting hurt. The first time you held a cutter/knife you risked yourself getting a cut. When you went outside you risked yourself getting into an accident. See, you always had it in you, an indescribable courage of overcoming the fear. You got so accustomed of the previous activities that you didn’t realise the soreness of the thoughts you used to had before. Because now it isn’t new. It’s familiar even though risky. You are much more than you think. Take one step further each time and see how wonderfully you’ll be surprising yourself.

About September

September arrived like
two patrolling cars to comfirm
if I am still a criminal.
And my salty eyes gave away.
Yes, I am fugitive who still runs away from the feeling of lonesome,
from the unacceptability that it’s belongingness has been uprooted.
Like a twig whose Tree has been lost
like a tongue who lost its taste buds,
like a guitar whose strings stopped producing melodies
like an invisible faded light of a tea-candle
in a sky full of trembling fireworks.

September inspects the universe I created
of self-fulfillment, of gratification
and catching me red-handed with
a black hole of anxiety that kept forming
in a middle of my saviour cosmos
gradually engulfing my nerves to glory
bringing me back to a virtual reality
like someone who lost his lover to amnesia.
The one that existed and didn’t
at the same time.

Does getting older makes you
more honest
or better at hiding?