My every action feels like a potential trigger
for my all-seeing god and his all-criticizing followers
to throw me into the hell that is still under construction.
They are always changing the furniture,
always tearing down new wallpapers,
to suit to life I fear most.
But I can never make up my mind.
Maybe knowing, that the only way to evade their sentence
is to live my own hell.
The momentary happiness
of the warm embraces.
These gifts of few seconds
have become our only curse.
For this life never lives upto
the beauty of those seconds.
And now we can only live on
in form of secrets in our books.
These seconds, these pages are where
our story stopped.
I remember you
sitting under trees
waiting for the your tears to melt,
for your vision was frozen in a past.
For you knew too late.
You found who were yours
only when looking back.
The only word I kept under my tongue
my name – and yet it is dissolving
into the fog where all things are lost.
As the weight of my name slips
from my mouth,
I feel how latching onto anything is
I feel how letting everything go is
also a suffering.
And I keep swaying in the currents of
and wanting nothing.
I am living
but I do not know what to do with this world
or with myself.
I have no answers.
Words do not have much meaning
on the lips of someone
who has been abandoned by every word.