In the Shadows of a page

A poster and a thought.

Naked

‘Naked’ And to my mother’s ears, it’s ‘Blasphemy’. I wonder what’s more suffocating, the fact that I am Naked and a mere reflection of her or the fact that she’s had her eyes closed this whole time? The society is the most illusionary mirror to ever exist. It shows you what you desire, but at

Night Creatures

All the night Creatures crawled up to my desk ~ & I wondered… What Creature am I in their language? The one with the touch of Death or the God with untimely sunlight ~ as bright as a snowfall in the raging summers? They keep coming back, I don’t think they’ve a name for me.

Will You Write Yourself?

An excerpt from a poem, a question to myself and fellow writers; Will you write yourself?

Happy Women’s Day

On this day, I want to celebrate trust, dependency and sensitivity. It’s a blessing to be able to rely on friends and family. As a woman, I’ve seen a considerable level of criticism/unwanted suggestions coming my way because of my choices in life. However, these pricking truths are not the only facet to my life.

On Writing

Writing for a purpose, specially one that’s for a long term, can be so difficult to provide an impetus to. I’ve been so frustrated and annoyed at myself for the past few months. I was in a similar position at the beginning of the previous year, but it was for all the different reasons. And

of independence & french fries

i grew up as independent as the roof on my head, but i still needed the walls to float i sometimes feel like the plants sittingoutside my window, just observing my life maybe this is just an astral lie or maybe im a stray dog looking for a shed to sleep under im a window

Of Women & Moonlight

A land that pushes women to the stature of a Goddess Is also adept at pulling them down when necessary This reminds me of necessities that arise out of despai A colony of ants climb the hills that reek of sweet sanity Between my knees are bruises that never healed Between my palms are lines

Skin

Your skin tastes like mumbling blue berries trapped inside sea shells, skies falling upon your collarbones Did you really believe that the weight of this world could shatter you? You carry butterflies inside your stomach You love like tomorrow is but a fable Tell me, do you not shudder when you think of the end?

Far Away

Grey furniture in a room full of colorful walls Black being the most significant constant I look at the skies like a naked painting organizing itself by evening, With the last stroke of the sunlight I watch my sins flutter upon valleys with foreign names My body parts morph into my mind I am my