DIGITAL VANDALISM

I am but painted plastic With reminiscence of a smile. My porcelain cheeks crack, as my eyes stare at the aisle. I am dressed up in jeans, Sometimes in a frock; All the jazz up, For a crowd to gawk. I'm up for display And my dress is for sale I am silent and stationary Mostly slender and frail  And when the storeman  lifts me up to put me next to the door, the people all stop to appreciate the decor They stare, They see,  how Death Becomes Me There's one more mannequin Maybe, my next of kin? We do have some things in common; Mostly the scratches on our chin Sometimes I'm at the storefront,  but mostly at the back You stop and admire  My attires with their tags I collect DUST like rivers collect stones I feed on these dust particles To make up for my lack of bones Pardon me if you're in a quandary I can't help with your clothes It's a worker with a rulebook who helps me with my chores OOTD? no I'm good I'll wear this for a week 

Every day is the same We start the day in the morning and end it by night There’s too much sun in the noon Not so much at twilight And we have given these names Like seconds, minutes, hours and days As if we have tamed the time And learnt its ways  Because you see, time is infinite But we can’t understand things beyond a limit So we clubbed Sixty tick-tocks together And called them a minute Then those minutes combined in a similar fashion And a new word was announced Which nobody knew how to pronounce It sounded like letter r, And it belonged to us So we called it an ‘hour’  Now in this whole business of making time run We wanted to involve earth, moon and sun And i know it might seem like an anomaly But nothing enraptures public like space and astronomy So we said, if axis is a stand And the earth is a cake Then for one spin, a day is  the numbers of hours it will take But you see, a single day was lonely So we gave it a family We said, when seven of these days are toget...

Do I have to be in the limelight to shine? Do I need a microphone to speak? I look back in time  And take a road trip down my memories Some bollywood party song is in playing on a speaker Remember that 2000s era that we miss? Yeah, we are singing chorus You are dancing like no one’s watching And i I can barely move my feet You are angry at me  For tagging you along on my road trip You say you don’t like it one bit I ignore you because i know you’re just hungry We stop at some roadside dhaba for dinner You say it’s the best food you’ve ever had We wish we could do it everyday Together? oh we never said that I am driving slowly As we pass the tunnel of misunderstandings It has been long since we last spoke I try to ask you how you’ve been, but my voice croaks I wish you could just read my mind I would let you absorb the eternal ramblings of my daily life Like we are in some sci fi movie Pretending to be superheroes  I wish you called me once in a while My urge to write to y...

We are two detectives  on two ends of two telephones talking in verbal codes and sometimes in Morse Do you get it? Tip tap tippy tap a word of mine could save your world and I deliberately avoid  saying that word so that you can continue to rely on me we stay in this void that telephone line has created for us of electrical signals and discrete-time    you hate my incompliance  we are stuck by the cords since you struck the chords i blinded you with science I guess you still want to see the world but I like it better when you are blind, deaf and cannot speak Do you get it? Tip tap tippy tap a word of mine could save your world and I deliberately avoid  saying that word so that you can continue to rely on me

here I sit on a wooden chair inviting the birds of felony to scratch my skin and choose my nerves as the building block of their domicile here I stand alone on street staring at a dead twig menacingly the tree it left now soul bereft I pick it up and twist it in my knee here I walk with a girl under an umbrella beneath the roof she called me to join in her facade now I accompany the  drizzle in her heart

I saw the nail paint dripping on our mahogany table We bought it yesterday, I think, Sammy didn't let me remove the label We are still setting up our home The house is under construction The photo frame in our bedroom is crooked The refrigerator doesn't function I looked up from my trance away from the brick red liquid We are in this together, he said, Sammy believes we will be forever We are still shifting  The boxes with the word 'FRAGILE' The cupboard is now lined with our clothes The mirror shows me in flannel I can't stop the nail paint the color has now reached the edge We know we won't fight but Sammy will be upset  We are still drifting The table is no longer there The house seems to be spinning The red liquid is all I have. 

It conceals the blue-laden sky   Like a mirror;  Searching into the depths of silver    Painted on its back  A quest for a soul and perhaps more  To be savoured by spiritless self   Shall it find me, standing there   Awaiting the bleak blank of blue  A sight for the heavens or perhaps azure  To be prayed out of pique  I stare at the dark parchment  That is glued;  The window ate the ceiling fan  Hanging by the roof  Just some time before it comes for you  Takes up sorrow, grants nothing new  Will you be happy, asks window  I shake my head in disdain  The water would flow despite stones in path  You took my sorrow in vain  Then, it stood there like inanimate   As if dead;  The graveyard of which is storeroom  That lay in dark  A part of world that stood far, aloof  Filled of things from my past  There is this window in between   I lean...

 there was a knife bleeding with the blood of someone I killed  lying next to a corpse, white like paper I thought he used to be red until I sucked blood from him and now I stare lifelessly at his deadly being eyes open, like he knew it was me and wanted to be I am falling  falling from the standard of sanity I wish I shrieked but my throat was thin dry like I am choked by the sand of guilt there were two people until a minute and now there was one wondering if it deserved to be a l i v e and d e a d could one be? can we even live after we kill? there was a curtain and it was all turned red oh I wish I had some bleach bleach for the floor and some bleach for my head erasing everything just erasing everything      or I could take pills and sleep could I sleep? I will wake up dead like him tomorrow staring the world through empty pupils I will see many walking people again  but wonder if I can kill there was a knife and it was caked with the blood of som...

On a lazy Sunday morning I am lying on the couch Doing absolutely nothing Until I hear my mom shout “Skand, make yourself useful Help me with some chore We are painting the house Get some paint from the store” Off then I go  With my jolly prancing steps Entering the vibrant shop The colors waltz in my head I am muddled by the options  Even though I know what mamma said Had she not wanted ‘serene and bright’ We could really go for some black I wander in my search And find a color so perfect Everything about it was great  except the name it had I point in it’s direction They bring me the bucket for me to inspect Oblivious of nature of my inspection I simply stare at the object There’s a bucket full of white paint Right in front of my feet If you ask me, it’s white But they have named it moonlight   I stare at the white liquid Like a queen staring at her crown I ask the walls, would they mind, if I choose to drown?   Hearing all the silent responses From all sides ...

sky painted with green, and blue for colourless water she squinted her eyes to see if it got better; a push along the hem of cloth, that hung about the roundabout and she was hemmed into inanity  of all the blending colours; gaped at her numb friend, who sat afar and smiled,  she looked away, and came back, to smile all the time "look, momma, look at Mana, it seems she can't ride, nine minutes on the merry and she is smiling all the time!" jerked her head, held her breath  colours started to waltz and her heart tapped wish, whoosh! and then she fell off the seat the colours went for a sortie while little girl weeped a look was cast upon dumb friend, who knew not it was time to cry she still sat afar and smiled, and smiled, and smiled all the time.

There’s something alluring about all things evil.  For some reason, Superheroes are less attractive Than villains We fall for the charm of a morally grey character compared to some exceptionally perfect being. After all,  We are no God. We are flawed. Awfully.  They preach to us about monsters under the bed About the ghosts in dark alleys With filthy hair  And bleeding cheeks I haven’t met any of them The only monsters i saw were Disguised as pretty things Like my serpent Encased in a glass casket Crawling it’s tender body on tendrils My monster, my serpent, Had beauty that sent chillls It is always there With it’s golden eyes Staring at me it clutches my hand in its teeth And bites me  everytime I try to feed but I keep doing it  Because look at it. It’s so pretty.  Don’t be ridiculous, i am not a moron I have tried to get rid of it. but It’s like moon Following me everywhere It’s so wonderful And i keep wondering why is it chasing me It’s shimmeri...