The Argumentative Indian: A Review

Open publication - Free publishing - More amartya sen

The Perfect Day

i open the eyes and there's just too much silence, unbearable piercing silence cutting through ages gone past and the centuries to come. i breathe this toxic pain of life one breath at a time, and counting the clouds crossing across the sky. a thought comes and goes, and i listen to the quiet whimper it leaves behind.
there's too much darkness and the earth is still, breathing slowly, and waiting for that perfect day. and here's to everyone coping with reality that only the unfortunate see. and i, stuck in this cycle of days and nights, wondering, waiting, hoping, for that perfect moment, the end of time.

The Idea

Thoughts flew around
looking for a place
somewhere
in the sky;
bored of gravity

Sick of You

HOPE
i am sick of u
for being there like a ghost
haunting me like surface
while remaining a vacuum

DREAM
i am sick of u too
for chasing me down
when i thought i'd escaped
from your naughty deceitful lure

TRUTH
i am sick of u too
for being bitter
and remorseless
and slapping on the face
always a little too late

LIFE
i am sick of you too
for just being there