Lost

Lost;
Drowning
In a chasm of thought

Asphyxiated
My feet pound
Against the pavement

Desperately searching
For a glimpse
Of you

#poetheme

Black Waves

Walls of ink;
Black waves
Hurl her frail body
To and fro.

She lunges at the sky
To escape
The depths
That would consume her

Prose lifted her lips
Into a smile.
Music made her believe
In love, life and justice.

Like an artist spills emotions
In psychedelic splashes of acrylic paint
Like firewood tossed into a roaring flame
Each syllable that rolled off a worn book page
Each word cried from the mouth of a bitter musician
Resonated within her

But when she left her house
Stepping out into the violent daylight
Things were different.

Blinking, realisation filtered
Into her mind
As the sun's warmth washed
Across her surroundings

Her dearest writers wrote
Of what they wished would be
But who spoke
Of reality?

Sleep Paralysis

This describes the worst experience I've had with sleep paralysis. I'm not much of a writer, but because I'm too much of a  thinker, writing is a necessary trade off.

With sleep paralysis, I can't describe it - it's like a series of sharp pulses, heavy in sensation. Not the pain of a migraine - it's painless in all honesty. But more forceful; more potent. And all while this happens, you can't move. You simply must wait for it to end. It's not horrific per sé - but when you experience it, it's really not something you want to remain in.
---

Another late night studying
I sigh, crawling into bed
Preparing to experience
The daily onslaught that I dread

It gradually descends
Heavy, but painless
Like a ten tonne weight
Is being hooked
On my mind

Descending slowly
And thickly
Like black tar
Across a tattered road

Chloroform's twisted sibling
Rendering my mind aware;
My body chained.

I try and fight it
But who am I kidding?
Half asleep; fully exhausted
5.00 AM, I surrender.

Suddenly my
Limbs are locked;
Paralysed
All I see is black and
God I'm terrified

Like a wave it oscillates;
Briefly I'm free
But it returns, striking sharp;
I lay helplessly

The door appears to open
A heap of clothes
Resembles a demon
I tell myself it's not real
But my body still fails to feel

My mind drifts
But I remember too late
I should have stopped it;
Patiently wait

Faces appear
A child cries
A hoarse voice whispers
"You're going to die."

I tell myself it'll be over
But the faces laugh, knowing better

Inside I silently scream
Shut up
Shut up
Shut up
I've been here before
It will end
It will stop

Emprisoned in my own body
The one time I wish time to fly
It is infinite; a cruel mockery
Sick continuum,
Forbidden even to cry

Worse than any nightmare
I could conjure
Because I'm living a nightmare
I can't simply wake up from

If I could run
I'd sprint like Bolt
My lips would violently tremble
But I'm still at a halt

Slowly it ebbs away
But fear runs thick in my veins

I breathe;
It's finally over

But the wave crashes once again

Deathly Silence

Seeing those four words
The room suddenly went deathly quiet
No distant birdsong heard
No tears were shed.

How can one cry,
When countless hours before were spent
Crying in fear of seeing
Those very words?

Instead, here I sit.
Feeling nothing.
My body
My brain
My emotions
Under quarantine.

Typing
Meaningless words
So that my brain won't dwell
On meaningful ones.

I'm calmer than I thought I'd be.
Just cold. Shivering. Maybe it's the weather.
Unashamed. Not saddened.
Just annoyed at how I spent the last five weeks.

I won't cry;
I've wasted enough time.
I won't get mad
Even though I want to.

Most importantly? I will not become
The girl who almost got in.
I am still the girl who got an offer.
I don't want or need self pity.

Now is the time
To prove to
Every
Single
Motherfucker
Who questioned my potential
That they were wrong.

That's all.

I will get my head down
And get my grades

Their loss.

Questioning Everything

Lying on the floor
Why? I'm not quite sure
Simply letting my mind explore
Staring at the open door.

I laugh as my mind makes connections
Bitterly (of course)
Probably didnt elaborate on the perks of prosection
In my attempt to get on the course.

A door that was once open
My fault it's now closed
Perhaps slammed in my face would be more accurate
After all, this is a pity party in prose.

Worst part? It was in my hands
The consequence of which I cannot stand
Is there no reprimand?
No simpler alternative demand?

---

I've decided this will remain incomplete. I do not wish to waste any more time dwelling on a dilute tragedy, and I cannot simply delete it and erase it from my memory.

Ironically (or tragically) this was written the day before I heard. I generally get a sense of these things. Like St George's. When I visited the university, I had such a good feeling about it - and it worked out.

Anyway, time to move on.

(Running Advisable)

Short fused temper
Do not push me aside
You'll only strike a match
That lights a fire in my eyes

Acidic words? They corrode
Your own defence
Torment and shove? Well
You are a creature devoid of sense.

So continue to prattle
Just don't be surprised
The day you push me too far
I will rise;

Smiling,
Hand in hand
With a shovel.

Undefined.

Pseudonymous existence
Living a life of hopes
Fragile motivation
Sceptically pursed lips

Looking up at those
Ubiquitous cotton wool clouds
Floating in spring's
Pastel blue sky

I wonder what
Life is like
Elsewhere.

Speculating,
Whether at that very moment
Another looked up
And had the same thought.

Can't Say Yes.

Being stubborn is both a blessing and a glorious character defect.

Seconds away from tossing my economics textbook out of the window, my mother enters my room, telling me to sleep and stop working.

Without thinking, I automatically reply "No."

She smiles knowingly, and closes my door. I simply glared at my textbook, and continued stu(dying).

I don't know if she knows what she did, but I'm grateful nonetheless.

some dreams should remain dreams

I dreamt I couldn't save him.

He died before me.

Polite Smiles

Carefully sculpting her words
She constructs a wall
Plastering a smile on her face
To hold the bricks together.

Sometimes a crack forms
At the surface of her demeanour
Curious eyes peek through
To get a glimpse

She hurls the light elsewhere
Attention unwanted
Hiding under a blanket of darkness
Lips upcurling into a wry smile

All the while
They to understand
When she doesn't even understand herself
A person; undefined.

Patience Should Not Be A Virtue

Someone shackle my wrists
I'm addicted to getting my hopes up
Typing in meaningless letters
Every hour I log into my inbox

Hoping I see a little blue line
Hoping I don't see a little blue line
Seeing?
Nothing but grey.

Ironic. Most my age
Hope to see
a little blue line on
a test for pregnancy

I laugh, because
I could only tell you
About the immobilised monoclonal antibodies in it.

Guess I'm not your typical wayward teen
Who gets drunk and high at parties
Waking up with a mysteriously damaged spleen
Giving it up to any guitar wielding Lothario.

But I'm okay with me.
Only dependent on green tea
Getting by as a blip on the radar;
An anomale.

Arranged

I fear the day, 5-7 years or so away, when I come home from work

...to a family of Singhs, happily sitting on the sofa. Prodigal son (IT technician you see) between his prune-skinned grandmother with tufts of white hair, and his overweight father with a beard that required two glances to confirm that it was actually a beard (resembled furry road kill).

I'd blink in confusion and turn to my mother, glaring.

She'd grin, explaining "This is the nice family I told you about, here to see you - remember?"

I'd continue to glare as she cheerily lied through her teeth.

And before I know it, I'd be dragged away, given a scarf to cover my hair and shoved back into the room juggling Indian sweets and a tray of chai (made by the budding daughter in law to be of course).

I'm proud of my culture and heritage - don't get me wrong, but certain aspects of tradition irritate me beyond measure.

Violent Daylight

Violent daylight
Ultraviolet rays
Warm to the touch
Cancerous soirée.

Ultraviolet

He was ultraviolet;
Splitting simple words into
Propagating radicals
Of endless thought

Trapped

Trapped forever
In the web of his memory
Lavished by the kisses of
His false promises

Waiting
For the day
A lie
Becomes the truth.

Across The City

The sun splays
Across the city
Splashing rays of
Buttery warmth

Sky's lantern
Lighting a path
For morning
To follow

Morning Melody

I don't wish to hear
The morning melody
Signifying night's end

Prefer the timelessness of dark
Don't make mistakes here
I disappear

Day of Reckoning

It's soon
My day of reckoning
How I pray
I'm not another
Statistical casualty;
A faceless
set of grades.

When I Am Weak

The thought of you gives me strength.

When my will wavers
And my hope hides
I imagine your hand
Holds mine.

I picture you whispering
Three words
"It'll be okay."
Arms encircling my waist.

When I am
Rock bottom
Motivational crash
I know you'd wipe away
My tears.

Cliché
But I don't care
Because I love you
All of you.

Decisions

I can't believe how soon I'll hear from Bristol. I've never been more terrified. Of the outcome of their decision. And more importantly, how I'll react.

If it's positive, I'll be overwhelmed in every sense of the word with complete and utter joy. I never even thought I'd get an interview. I'd cry with happiness. Tears would freely flow, unashamed. I'd crack my knuckles and return to revision with the sole aim of obtaining three A*s. I'd live and breathe A level revision until results day.

If it's negative?

That. That's my fear. It'll crush me of course. I'll feel like a disappointment to myself; my family. All that effort; that day off. Sleepless nights. Weeks of preparation. I'll remain grateful for St George's - but I hope I'd be strong enough to focus on exams; not dwell on it for long.

I'm so scared. I almost don't want to hear from them.

Dear God, give me strength.

Satin Stream

I never was a morning person
But then I woke in his arms
To a satin stream
Soft yellow sunlight
Now I'm morning's stalkerish fan

#heartsoup

As Night Falls

Night falls
He wonders
If she's awake
Face illuminated by
His messages

He wishes
She lay
In the moonlight
Seeping through
His window.

Walking on Water

I close my eyes,
Ignoring how
They call it fake.
Faith keeps my
Feet moving;
My will won't break

Walking on water
I will not drown.

Painting In The Dark

Painting in the dark
Whispering words of crimson
Hands interlock, bathed
In midnight's hue
Lips exploring
The dark unknown

The Voice

A murmured voice;
Echo in the abyss
Reaches out like
Gnarled branches
To the sky

A lost cry
The requiem
Of her goodbye

---

I'm so overwhelmed by all of the RTs and stars I've been getting from the twitter community - in a week! I'm very grateful to receive such support from such wonderful people - it's nice to know that others find meaning in my poetic attempts.

Priya.

PS: you can find me at @peoplepuzzleme.

PS2: to clarify - I keep my twitter poetry here so that all of my words are in one place.

That Ubiquitous Fight Against Time.

The moon's cyan glow
filters through blinds
She works through the night;
Racing with stars

Battling against
Her dream's
expiry date

Speech

Will there ever be a day
When my lips are unbound and free?
Emancipated from the rusty shackles
Of social anxiety.

Danger of Reality

The danger of reality?
We spend too long
Contemplating how
Things could go wrong

Oblivious to
True beauty
Life's complex
simplicity

Canvas

Poetry;
Illustration of
The mind's
Canvas.

New Life

She watches her past
Slowly burn
Until only
Embers remain

New life ahead
Forbidden to look back
Her patchwork heart
Would only crack

Oak & Whiskey

Her memory is jolted by
The scent of aged oak & whiskey
Reminder of the love
That'd never replace

His bitter muse
43% ethanol.

Literary Antidotes

Poetry; an antidote
for the overthinker.

Morning

Sleep calls
When birds
Begin to sing;
Melodies
Warm and
Welcoming

Morning is nigh.

#micropoetry #productivenight

Moonlit Madness

We live for moments of
Moonlit madness
For wholehearted smiles;
Unequivocal sadness.

Searching for he who
Sets your sky ablaze.

Russian Roulette

His words evading
But his lips so serenading

his hand
hovering over
the trigger.

Russian roulette
Stupidly mistaken for love

Cloak of stars

I wrap his memory
In a cloak of stars
By day, hidden away
From my sanity

Sun out of sight
it unravels by night
No sleep for me.

Fire

Flames of anger soar
And rise; indignant cries in
The fire of her eyes.

#haiku #micropoetry

The Doctor

Hello sir! What
Troubles you today?
Says the doctor
It's often this way

A smile at the
Surface, but beneath
Clear as ice:
One simple mistake and
The patient pays the price.

---

This is what scares me the most about medicine. Knowing that the lives of others will be in my hands. I don't want to do accidental wrong. Heck, I don't want to do wrong, period.

But I'm only human. And humans make mistakes.

Perhaps I should pray to delay the onset of such humanity.