Atonement
for sins, for fruits of passion
for desires, for deception
for the loss of innocence
for the demonstration of grime

Death
The purgation, the atonement.
The callous conspiracy of fate
The detachment or the conduit
Or a playful symphony
that brings the end

Birth
The origin, the beginning.
The chance for atonement
Or an escape from it?
Clemency or retribution.
Or simply a paradox to the eternity- death

For months now, I have grumbled often tearfully almost like a regular adult about how much I have loved and then eventually lost, but I have ceased to mention, at times intentionally, what I had attained when I did love… and to be honest it indeed was a lot. Love as we all know is a weird emotion, for while it lasts it shadows your entity, your being and when it leaves, it leaves you not with the memories of sweetness but with the bitterness of how it could not last you for a lifetime. We are greedy, greedy for more; we humans feel as if we are naturally entitled to everything that is beautiful that is joyous, and when we grieve, we do it with such a passion that literally nullifies everything that had been good. Therefore, we mourn, mourn and mourn until something else catches our whim or better still, when somebody else replaces our needs. Selfishness comes to us as naturally as eating or shitting does. So let me for once refrain from being such a hypocrite and of course before I realize that I am being stupid mention how much I did enjoy being in love and put aside the fact that things did not quite work out between us as I thought they would, and really say aloud that yes I had been in love and no I don’t think it is such a crime to fall in it again. And to the rest of the lot who feel otherwise, well, what can I say I feel sorry for you I really do, because love is not a bad thing for it does not change you, it never does instead it changes the way you look at things and that makes all the difference in the world. So cheers to all who have loved and lost, for before losing you had been in for a joy ride and wait till you get yourself another ticket to Disneyland.

Insanity my refuge
The startling prettiness of craze
Tantalizing my concealed vision
And the desire to overlap beauty with the
Scorching sensation of inadequacy

Remembering those
Whose wide eyes and shadow dreams
And marble throats enigma
Love, or something like it

Fantasy and rainbows
Hoods and faces behind masks
Or were they faceless masks
The shimmering gowns, tissues
And bliss
Or life an endless alley to nothingness and utopia- the dreams painted in painful insanity

The tender touches vanish quite unexpectedly one day leaving behind no traces, the imprint remains strong in your psyche but the entire craze seems so unreal, like it never even existed and you keep probing quite unsuccessfully to reach out to those various myriads of joy or rather the relics that you think you will be able to preserve. Your first instinct is to increase your caution; your desperation takes a toll on your judgment. You are often exasperated at your callousness for letting it go in the very first place, for not trying harder than you did. After several attempts you realize that nothing, pretty much nothing is there to be ensnared in the unyielding darkness, you are exhausted by that time, which again makes you feel incapacitated, helpless often incomplete…… and this is precisely the moment when the vacant sigh escapes. The brutality of fate injects in you a venom so strong that it gnaws at your very existence… and that is when the tears start pouring out not due to pain, but merely to dissolve the numbness that threatens to engulf our very subsistence, to cease the process of our extinction…