The silent man screamed the shit out of people

When a mute (vocally impaired) person tries to speak,

people with voices become more quiet.

By more quiet I mean dead shut up.

As their voices take refuge

behind their teeth.

Their guts go hide behind their guts.  

When a mute (vocally impaired) person barters words

People with voices go deep underwater.

They get nothing to exchange or offer.

Not even a seat. Or a corner.

In the whole new fancy office 

they can't stop bragging about.

And we (the people with voice) become dumb.

This is why it hurts the way it hurts.

hope notes

1.       Going on your first date, second and third that eventually turn into a wedding, aren’t you?

2.       Celebrating your first anniversaries, second anniversaries, fiftieth anniversaries aren’t you?

3.       Having children?

4.       And then grandchildren?

5.       Watching sunsets that never seem to end?

6.       Holding hands with someone?

7.       Watching your kids grow up from the size of a cauliflower?

8.       Watching your parents grow wrinkles and grey hair and curl with age?

9.       Wandering places to find something or the other?

10.   Being a superhuman to someone, aren’t you?

      

Because I hope so

Change your mind

You’re standing at the edge of the metro platform

with no intent to board the train but to jump off in front of it.

The platform is filled with all the shapes and sizes of strangers.

If you jump, they will be left with a forever connect with you.

Maybe you've ticked all the boxes in your head

of all the feelings you wanted to feel before you die.

So maybe you’ll jump.

Within micro seconds the train will hit you, smash you

And you’ll be a pulpy mess of yourself.

You might have calculated all the risks yesterday,

But who knows if you’d turn bad at math today?

I have heard that trains move faster thank you think.
So when you’ll jump

Those strangers will watch you fall

and will be able to do absolutely nothing about it.

Some will watch you fall and die. And they will be changed forever.

If you die, you may rest in peace while others won’t.

Your death will forever haunt them, and your ghost 
will never quit following them.

You’ll keep dying over and over again in their dreams,

and over and over again, they won’t be able to do a thing about it.

There must be something ugly about your life that has pushed you so far

that you’re standing at the edge of the platform

but just FYI there’s nothing that’s beautiful about suicide either.

There are many better ways to die.

So step back from the edge of the platform,

let your mind be changed

move way back from the yellow line, turn around and breathe.

If you see a clock there, don’t just see the clock;

do what it does. And keep going.

While you’re going away, think of 
the moment between your jump and the ground,

what if you changed your mind then?

MIND IT

A loaded gun in your own hand may not kill you

but your mind loaded with the thoughts

of your lately wrecked relationship

can destroy the shit out you.

Even if it wasn’t a relationship.

Your own flesh tires you up.

Diligently questioning about

letting it revel in his

and for making a home in it.

Your own heartbeat stares you

outside of yourself, panting and

waiting for some clichéd answers

to calm it down.

Underneath your every breath,

You hear some soft lines

Of the poem he left 

In the corners of your mouth

while kissing the last time.

Your eyes forget to function

And take up different climates

From torrential downpour

To the dessert like dryness. 

 But they never forget to open up.

Every organ turns into

An explosive device

And that’s… that’s what it does to you.

 Every passing day you just

end up surviving the series of blasts.

Things that matter in the end

Budhha said

“In the end only these things matter

How much you loved,

How gently you lived and how gracefully

You let go off things

That were not meant for you.”

I can’t measure the first two things,

I’m shy at saying I love yous,

It’s like a monumental task for me.

But I’m sure the last thing

Is going to mess up everything.

Because I know you’re not

Meant for me

And I have no idea

How I’m going to let you go off.

I’ll forget about the gentleness

And the gracefulness,

As living will be an awkward,

a tough practice.

It will hurt a lot more

And matter a lot less.

A library of your love

And should you ever happen to leave

Or in whatever case it is me,

I’ll always have the words.

So many words dipped in ink

Filled only with your scent.

So many words with so many

Letters huddled together

In your eloquent sentences.

So many words including all

 The whispers and longings

You drew on the surface of my skin.

So many words we exchanged

Without even giving them

The privilege of voice.

And so many words will always

be with me because once you

were with me.