Tasenda

My smoke filled apartment opens onto purgatory Neon enveloping the empty silences around the sparse furniture The bitter taste of your unkempt dreams lingering on my tongue Silence now stands frozen in my veins, ready to bleed into the night Your pain lightly stenciled into my skin, the morning sun filtering through me Scattering pieces of me across the landscapes of so many strangers Absorbing the bitter fire, That burns inside me and You

There are words that need to be learnt The hard way Through template emails, stamped letters Or heartbroken silence There are some memories that need to forgotten The hard way Through fragments of time, colossal machines Or ritual exorcism There are some spells that need to be broken The hard way Through enchanted kisses, old books Or desolate loneliness There are songs that need to be unsung The hard way Through molten mirrors, shattered sorrow Or stunned silences

Are you done shooting me? A million bullets headed my way Blinding me, maiming me, cutting me Now that you have me by my balls Is it what you imagined it to be like? Are you done praying for me? Condolences swathed in batons sent my way Pimping me, stripping me, strangling me Now that you bribed me with blood money How does my ash-stricken flesh taste? Are you done fooling me? Fake kings and queens that you sent my way Flogging me, skinning me, murdering me Now that you sit on the throne How does it feel to fuck over the dead?                                                                        ...

This fog of derision That I am driven through Every night in my dream, Darkness in combat boots chasing me, will lift one day I, Who am trapped in my own mind, a recently developed ghetto, Will slash through the urban jungle With its thickets of half baked houses And rivers of human sweat, breaking free This prison of my own choosing, An exile which is bonfire of my vanities Kindled by an ego on a feeding frenzy, Will have its bars bent and its walls pulled down I, Collector of broken things And broken people, who devours the Sun every morning and holds onto Little madness that falls gracelessly into Insanity, now sells scrap metal Secretly inscribed with Nashtaliq

I am a word written on water  I can't be remembered  I am a fragmented memory of ancient love  I can’t be forgotten  I am a old love letter laced with poison I can't be read  I am a terrible lie told in a desperate moment  I can’t be unsaid  I am a remnant of the war between Ifrits and men I can’t be enchanted  I am a unmarked grave in the mountains  I can't ever go home