Abort.

stop. turn around.walk away.
in fact, run.
as fast as you can
faster if possible
get in a car
zero to hundred
in a couple of seconds
or get on a plane
get out of here
put a lot of miles in between
maybe a few time zones
go anywhere but here
and go now
before you get caught
because
this
is a trap
and this
is fair warning.

. . .

Us Vs Them.

You are still as impressive
as you were yesterday
but today
you joined
in my head
the list of people
who, in my head
don't get it.
I can't blame you for that
well,
not outside my head.

. . .

Calm.

I've been warned enough
about the oncoming gloom,
nobody ever seems to talk
about the calm
after the storm.
That is surely where
the answer would be,
if there is any.
The lack of free advice
on this seemingly important front
makes me think
the storm isn't the villain in this story,
it's just a distraction you see
from all the nothing happening.

The ongoing calm
now that, is truly scary.

. . .

Easy.

I should.
It would be easier
if I did
and I would
if I could.
shouldn't be this hard
to take it easy.

. . .

Silence Please.

I don't see any reason
to ever leave this library
in becoming a recluse
is it good or bad though
to choose a place
full of dead people talking.

. . .

The Running Gag.

I laugh all the time
at how my life thinks it's so funny.

. . .

Vodka Tonic, Whisky Sour.

It wasn't you
it wasn't even me
it was the vodka
and the whisky.

. . .

As I pass by.

Constricted spaces
crooked alleys
bright colors
bleak shadows
transient affairs
captured and locked
in all their contrast
in a photograph
framed and sold
The India of tour guides.

 . . .

Fleeting.

I would really like
to memorize
the feel of your hand
in mine
however
never having learnt
how to forget
on command
I'm afraid
the memory
burnt into my head
will haunt me
long after
you
will have forgotten.

. . .

Fixated.

I catch you
looking at me
again and again
until I realize
I'm the one
staring.

. . .

To put it mildly.

I was romanticizing life.
they didn't get it.
so we fought.
for hours and hours
about nothing and everything
over hushed tones and over raised voices
in tangents and in tail spins
with clenched fists and creased foreheads
amid irritated strangers and concerned friends
while not making sense and not breaking trends
we fought and fought
our heads hurt and our throats sore
our hearts hurt and our thoughts sour
over and over again
we fought
to no conclusion.
In their defense
on a technicality,
I might have been romanticizing death.
but still, I maintain
they didn't get it.

. . .