Yes, I have descended to filching from weird quotes of indeterminate, ambivalent origin and intent. True, I have faltered, faded, fumbled and stumbled into that eternal bin. The crispy tang of the green fruit before ripening into succulence has mellowed…
In Which Leia Doesn’t Eat the Ice Cream
(Further to Bruno's Story) It seems I have troubled your heart, but it is a tale recount I must. So that next time you see a dog pup scrapping the bins for crumbs, you don’t wince in disgust. And when…
Lend Me the Assassin
What memories have etched this incision in the night? My heart will crumble without a reason in the night. The throbbing in the air is the labour of my breathing, Tenor of the sighs is a petition in the night.…
Bruno’s Story
At the end of long nights birds chirped and squawked, squirrels chattered their heads out. The wind rose and fell and the tall trees whispered. Footsteps swelled and footsteps receded. Footsteps stopped and guffawed and came to peep inside our home. Footsteps cackled.
Luna’s Story
Dear Finn, I don’t even know where to begin. But the skies get creepy like a hole in the mouth of a snake with each passing hour. And darkness falls like flakes and sinks into the soul of the dogdom.…
Moondust
Like a penitent pigeon, grief has settled again on the ledge; Molten moons have lingered and shone in vain on the ledge.
The Gunslinger Followeth
“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.” ~Stephen King In the darkness intervening the 25th and 26th of February, the Indian Air Force executed what is now known as the Balakot Strike, also alluded to…
Unwaiting for Godot
Disquieted and quietened we stand, the pair of us at the brink of the Internet, conjoined and disjointed at the splice of consciousness and a unique resource locator. Beguiled enough to have waited for ages, we have figured it’s time…
Afterwards
Afterwards, I shall be a mote swirling at your window, Without a breath, or a heartbeat, ringing at your window. Noon has stumbled through the half-wicked buildings, Like a blemish upon the wooers singing at your window. Withering are the…
1500. Reaching the pinnacle
Wet Charcoal
Each night I bleed a part of my soul to her beauty, Silken words congeal like a mole to her beauty. A lone moon is treading forth the liminal dust of evening, The dying sun has hitched a veil of…
The Icicled Bosom
Old lesions fester and seep in the cavern of tonight, Dark thoughts gather and weep in the cavern of tonight. A high wind is swaying the maimed tree of deodar, The parched lips of tippler look for tavern of tonight.…
One Grain Amongst the Storm 