Thoughts to Words

Marriages and how I implode when the antipathy it assaults me with is venomous. Hell, how old and bad habits die hard. Grey habits with a habitat that is downright dangerous and should go up in flames. Only a dolt with candy floss in his inner circle will be sucking up to those fairies and the second hand lies they go around littering and pick up the mushy teddy bears with 'I am all happy and distilled' popping out of their chests. Mending is not what a prince does in Sleeping Beauty or what the house of Hansel and Gretel which is plastered with confectionery, candies and cake is. You cannot just mend things like that especially when they are broken. Broken is broken and when you are desperate to mend the broken you break the broken into dandelions that lose their cause in the quest of getting back to where they were. Hiring adjustments and designating them to work on assignments that are baseless claims of some forced agreement is insanely patronizing the supermassive black ho...

Dear Aman, When your heart was secretly hoping that time would not race against it but hold your hands like a friend who is true, I cried and felt helpless as you battled the terminal illness feeding on your health, the helplessness was making me angry. When you asked me to give love another chance I promised you I would but I kept my fingers crossed at first. Love was not the problem you see, losing the one you love was. Then when I saw you seizing your days even before the sun could rise and walking through life with so much love that sunsets were more hopeful than they could ever be, you somehow persuaded me to keep my promise. I still have my fears but my hopes are stronger and can win over them. Your translation of Carpe diem will always be my favourite and no one can replace it. I could have written this letter to you over the weekend but I pulled out a pen and paper right away because I am not sure if... Kal ho na ho. Lots of love, Songbriti

Crammed messages on my fingertips, loitering in the steel railings. Patches of asynchronous music by trees freewheeling to please the stormy winter, insinuating midnight's solo gig. When two rough surfaces meet and greet, the settlement is amicable. A handpicked ambience to barbecue the excreta. Un-effing the eff ups after the fire is put out. A pact having conspicuous weightage but the heated leftover is a pokerface and can launch an asteroid to pay homage to the dinosaurs of Jurassic Park. Inadvertent disclosures auctioning the queerness of an outrage to craters. Bidders with salt and bidders with freshwater. The highest bid is...? ©songbriti

Light up a star for me, burn me in its lap, a wannabe phoenix, a parody of disasters, dimes on my corpse, snowing in acres, acres of space, gaze after gaze, peddling sunny nights, the dead moon, pulls in all of me, in grasses having a darker side. ©songbriti

Admiration costs a fortune. I stalked her, kidnapped her and when I broke her I arranged a pitcher to keep all of her in frozen cubes. I was better off as a loner. She shouldn't have been a trespasser, bringing out the obsession in my fangs. The sea is my land and the lighthouse is my private jet. Salt water tastes of fire when I throw a part of her into it. I love the winter peeping through her helplessness. She sweats like bold wine and I loot the barrel to make her mine. When a bunch of halfwits came to look for her, my hell trained dog had a good dinner. Their meat was light and healthy. Nutrition is a must for loyalty. A good person, a bad person... binaries were rotting, ergo the trash is in the dump. The sky is a pimp and the offers he puts forth are tempting but her flawless beauty is not for sale. ©songbriti

The desert’s sunny sky stretched the Monday blues grounding it to the pores of the sand. Sparse vegetation crawling back into the soil in withered avatars folding hands to plead for space in their motherland. A man in his maroon turban, white robe and boots made with crepe rubber soles and leather to protect his feet from the heat paid a visit to this low spirited place. From his left arm hung the handle of his bag that was sack like and a tad bit dusty in nature. Trampling the sand with confusion from head to toe and chewing the nail on his right thumb till the skin beneath reddened he took multiple strides but within a range of few metres. A dandelion appeared as snow in the blazing sun and asked, “What brings you here Sir?” The man shared that he was sent to the desert by his King in search of a cactus. He was tensed because there was no sign of monsoon and feared being punished by the King if he went back empty handed. The man decided not to give up and put his...

Words are interesting. I place them one after the other in the most convincing way to make you fall for them. A creature tucked inside a comforting blanket, a cup of bed tea will suffice as a bribe for you. I play my instrument of truth effortlessly and I make you the flag bearer of it. While you scream slogans of my bravery, I laugh at your half-grown sensibility. Pawns don't verify the lie because the luxury of truth can cost them their lives. ©songbriti

The crows were my alarm clock that morning. Not to wake me up but to tuck my mind under high amplitude delta waves as my body turned to the left side of the bed and then to the right and it didn't end there. The night had slyly escaped without being answerable to Karma for sedating my room with darkness. She dropped in through the window which was slightly open to let the toxicity pour out of the room. Cigarettes don't smell good but they lure you to spend dim nights with them anyway. She flew in with her glass like wings, wings which had a legacy of 300 million years. I was bewildered by the way she remained so poised. Could I possibly tell her about how the cat in the neighborhood carried the dead meat in his mouth and then hurried to a corner with an intention of self-preservation? It wasn't a murder, it was survival of the fittest. While coming here did she notice the barbed wire where the pink flowers were held hostage? Did she care to understand how they have been pr...

Dear Temporary, I see you standing on a pedestal with an hourglass covering the nudity of your inconsistency. The sand is smudged all over you with fine particles giving out miniature forms of what is apparently perceived to be in control and how it will dissolve into the sphere of nothingness as the Earth orbits the Sun complaining about the loss of equilibrium humans have in their lives due to their probable stupidity of leaning on expectations that will collapse sooner than a rainbow is lost to sight. I hate to admit that although you come with a cautionary tattoo on your forehead, I cannot accept you for who you are. Why do you have to be so despicable by reminding me of your iffy trait? Whenever I sense your touch upon my relationships I run away without giving closure to any of them. I run so fast that when I stop I do not even feel that anything ever existed in the first place. “Out of sight is out of mind.” Is it really so? The fear of loss terrifies me so bad tha...