Bangs

All of the bangs I’ve had
They weren’t loud,
They weren’t tasty,
They weren’t mornings,
Nights and dreams,
They dissipated
Without disrupting,
They left a shadow
Without leaving marks,
They left a traces
Without leaving a scar.
All of the bangs
They didn’t give me power,
They didn’t give me pushes,
Love and gushes,
They gave me bitterness
And loneliness,
Without giving me a safe space.
They gave me wars
Without winning a battle,
They gave me sorrow
Without winning me a smile.
They gave me everything but me,
And everything but you.

-ing

Knocking down walls
With my poor choice of words,
Spitting them with bloods
Of higher angels and of lords,
Making me shiver
Inside this body of dust,
Chewing my own liver
And throwing up my trust.

Losing the life
I once lived alone,
Swallowing the knife,
The water and the stone,
Living again
In vain.

New Starts

new starts

I remember summer as a kid. It was a moment of pause, a moment of rest, when I could enjoy time and books, without fear of getting old.

Now I’m old, or older, depending how you see things like these, and I feel like summer is the moment for new start.

What else can it be? Life is growing out of each and every stone. People seem to be rushing somewhere. You find the day long enough for you to do stuff. So what else is there but time?

Where else can I get my sense of time and my independence?

Inspiration.

Pic.