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?

A failed attempt

You come, you go,

You talk or you don’t,

You be in the bed

Or paint the streets red

You run like time

Or stand like water

You slaughter people

Or donate them your organs
Toothaches or heartaches
Handshakes or earthquakes

I fail to understand

which ones  

are more deadly.

For me,

the world is being remade,

each and every day

and failing

to make me dead.

A love letter from my bad habits

The pill says:

You pop me in and I pull you back from falling into the empty inside of you. A gulp sound and I quiet the creak of wood outside your window. I kill the dogs in the streets to stop their howling, so you sleep peacefully. This world is a noisy place and I’m glad to let it go silent for you.

The cigarette says:

You light a match and it’s not only me who’s on fire. We burn together, like two lovers sharing heat. Who knows it better to never be lonely and yet feeling alone? I come in packs of ten, wearing a warning label. Guess what I still have people to suck the cancer out of me. They say people die for me. You do too. But I never quit to burn in your love.

The alcohol says:

Dry days, Ten Pms, Out of Stock seem like nightmares and happy hours like lottery tickets to you. According to science, an adult human is 78% water. And there are days when you’re straight 78% me. I am glad you choose to get drunk. Because I sit here in fancy bottles, totally drunk in your love. And I find no other thing to sober me up.

                 

The heart says:

Apart from pumping blood, 26 is the number of times I’ve already been hit by the Cupid’s arrow this year. And it’s not even May. I think you treat me like the heart of a butterfly which lives for 14 days and then dies. I would love you more if you try to make it live longer.

The hope says:

I’ve noticed you do two things every now and then: Throw a fist in the air and chuck me out in the ocean like a silent prayer. I may be a hopeless romantic but my love for you is not wrong in all the good ways. I swear I’ll be the raft that saves you whenever the ship will get busy sinking.

The tears say:

As if everything sad has gravity in it. Each time they make me roll down your cheek, I helplessly fall in love with you. Don’t be afraid of me. Go ahead and cry. This will only boost our love and you will feel better. More love means more tears mean more salt. And salt is the reason that everything can float so well in the Dead Sea.

Forever says:

I have seen you staring into horizons and night skies to meet me. You love to get away with it. You take a little more and a little more until there is no more to draw on, since forever. You should learn to make your choices quick because time is running out and so is my love. A slow marathon.

The paper says:

I am crumpled at my edges and your lack of love is like scissors for me. I am the lover you should be scared of the most. Like I am scared of you that one day you’ll open your mouth to cry to somebody and that nothing will come out. Because I think you’d have given me all of you by then.

Truly, madly, deeply
Yours.

Unlearn to go back

Yesterday, at an ungodly hour

The short man’s daughter appeared at the door

Carrying the gifts of her husband’s lovely touch again,

blue eyes and cracked self-esteem,
hair messed up and her life as well.

She came with his pieces sticking to her,
those hands that she seemed to have enjoyed

even if  they were fists, fists, fists.

My grandmother held her,

Fed her Danish biscuits with seven cups of tea

And a few points

      1)   Don’t become an expert at applying concealer

      2)   Pick yourself up

      3)   Don’t make excuses, just leave

      4)   You could still be, what you want to be

      5)   That’s all there is to it

Today, she left.

She thought she is leaving,

But I know she isn’t going to go anywhere.

Lost and Found

I’ve been having an argument with myself about life.

I’ve been looking for life’s lost and found.

I’ve been looking for what I do own and I don’t.

Everyone owns a name, right.

No I haven’t found what’s there in the name

But some names that always cause

something to fall inside of me.

There are some vital organs of mine

made of paper and I’ve found that

a lot of people like to light matches for fun.

I’ve found out that how home is not a place

But a feeling you get to see certain people.

I don’t have butterflies in my stomach then.

I have skydivers and they all forget their parachutes.

My workplace sits around 70% woods and I wish I had wings.

Every evening at five, a zillion birds socialise at a high pitch.

I've found out that even they rant about not being free,

They’re also pissed for being chained to the sky.

While I write this, I've found out

I cannot tell and you cannot listen about the loss, 

but only feel. 

A warm memory

The winter wind stopped howling

When you looked in the other direction

And turned only to give me

A sight I can compare to nothing

Your knees to your chest

Your hands wrapped around them

Your head buried in then

As if gazing at the entire solar system

Your heart filled with warm stories

Your eyes with dew drops

And for more than a moment

The room flooded with all

My voice slipped away from me

Even though I wanted to tell you

How beautifully insane it is.

Never mind that we’re not seeing each other,

Maybe can’t even touch right now

But I know that you know

Our phantom hands are holding each other

In the dark behind our backs.

Time doesn't exist, clocks do.

And the clocks are everything because of their hands.

From a time long ago, they haven’t been able to tie its laces.

This time when time tried to change, I changed myself.

I turned over and shake some strength, off my skin.

I figured how it had become weak and brittle

by getting over obsessions for certain people.

And it said it was always a matter of timing.

Certain people are a matter of timing.

Certain time is a matter of timing.

No matter you want them or not.

00:00 Hours

And the question is whether 0000 hours an emotion?

The world is getting drunk and sick about it.

Don’t worry; I’d been just drinking about you.

The arrow belonged to the heart,

So it came flying.

The apple belonged to Eve,

It went off chasing its chemical pleasures.

Chaos belonged to me,

So it dangled from my eyelids.

I wonder why you said

stars are born out of chaos.  

2014, Oh I never saw you coming.

I often forget the new ones coming in.

I'd still be sleepwalking in the city.

As the Earth goes back

to where it was a year ago,

I'd still try and keep not settling in.

The Earth begins with its new revolution

And me with a new resolution-

Mainly, to stick one thing in my brain

And write 2014 instead of 2013.

Anyway, Happy New Year ladies and gentlemen.

Time to hang this one up behind the door.

Together Apart

It was a man’s ego.

It was a woman’s heart.

They were all fragile.

It was his heart.

It was her ego.

They were all stiff.

It was his no.

It was her yes.

They were all aloud.

It was his yes.

It was her no.

They were all hushed up.

Apparently, the word woman

Has man in it but

the latter is completely

Devoid of the former.

Paradoxical Wreck

I stayed under the moon too long.

I am silvered from

Collecting the names of the lovers

Who treated me like flowers

In those two arms

And threw sorry along with me.

Both crushed into a pile of memories

Of little and little more of their lives.

It’s a fact all that is silver

Doesn’t have a lining.

Not all those who are crushed,

Fade.

Sometimes you don’t need a line

But a fork to pick yourself up.

Especially, when that building came down

Before you could find a way out.

So, I cross my heart and

Find my place in a corner of

The elevator shaft.

These cold days of December

Burn brighter than the sun.

As I watch the elevator

Coming down, I realise

Why was time invented.

Slow and steady is the promise

While time unceasingly moves

In one direction

And usually heals if you let it.

Screw that, it’s paradoxical

That I break myself, to remake myself.

Like every other brilliant process

It takes time.