madhur r uchil

I'll stare at the eye of the tornado to give it another chance at love

I'll stand close to the fire cause maybe it doesn't want to burn alone

I'll touch the freaked out porcupine, maybe that will calm it down

I'll pet throns, nails, blades, knife, your hand, your hair, just to feel the hurt and the frown

I'm not perfect, but I'll survive

I don't make the best choices

but if you come to me sad, maybe I'll make tea

maybe later it falls on me and burns me and I'll still say sorry

maybe I will catch you, not like a falling ball, but like a running train, cause I like challenges

maybe I'll balance a pencil on my nose to make you giggle

I'm not perfect but I'll survive

I don't see things the way I need to

I see your troubles, as misunderstood consequences at most

mine, an open Pandoras box

or schrodingers, questioning the mere existence of my problems

I'm not perfect but I'll survive

I know this cause, after all

I've been doing everything for you

maybe, some day soon, I'll do some for me

and all the karmic bullshit about the world, will stand true

maybe I'll survive

I said I am home until I realised what home means

I thought home was where I wake up from a bad dream and I smell the thick tunes of devotional songs and hear the sizzling of spices, every morning.

Where my dad sat beside my mother, shaving and talking about me and my goddamn future thinking I can’t hear them

Well, it’s a small room and the voices made me go out of breath

I thought home was where anxiety stood at the doorway but forgets to knock

I can smell the devil as I brush my teeth, I know it’s waiting for me, peeking from the peephole

I thought home was where my name became so big and loud, but every time it was said, I felt small enough to escape from the keyhole

I thought home was not the finish line but a pitstop

Breaking, fixing, changing, every time I thought I was perfect, I was not

I thought home was a place where I hid dreams in my back pocket hoping that I wouldn’t get caught

I thought home was a place where I have to hide and not live

I thought home was a place where laughter was make-believe

But it was not all bad, there moments of joy and laughter and sweet time

But they say, even a spark of fire burns the forest from within

And in my case, it was just four walls

I ran from my home towards the burning world

When your home and world burn at the same time

Where the fuck do you not burn, where the hell do you run

And now you must say, why didn’t you talk to your parents

Oh love, I can’t, they are beaten down enough from world, to be yet again beaten down by their children

So, I left as jazz songs leaves from the window

I left floating, assuring them this was for my independence

an oil stain on my fav cloth

shows turmoil of things it strained through

ought to be worn out, but stitched to imperfection

but is always burdened by the fact that it can never be new

It can never drape the way it did

it bulges in places one won't see

but it does, and cribs,

oh to be new, it yells

but I still love it

it's covers me in a new way everyday

it's oil stain is dull and unnoticeable

I don't know how to make it evident, it's still the star of my collection,

so i wear it with a smile

to the kids whose lives were taken away before they even started,

to death that looked at these people with pity,

its arms would have been full,

its wrath would have driven it mad,

and its shoulders would have borne the blood of people.

To death, waiting to unleash its wrath,

take over when you can, death.

The revolution would not be televised,

they will televise something else entirely,

they will call it an "act of God.",

they will call it a "cleansing of evil.",

they will call it anything to let them sleep at night,

and they will call your wrath unfair when you act on it,

they will light candles and pray for their souls.

But when you come,

they cannot destroy you,

and they cannot defy you.

As your wrath surpasses them,

your wrath needs no explanation,

but theirs does.

To the bodies you have carried to the heavens above,

to the bodies you have wept over,

and to the headless children you have nestled in your arms,

let your wrath take over,

But when did I receive my truth? I would have been small, a child who, upon seeing the fruit, tore its skin and dug their teeth in. The child would have eaten it with such childish eagerness and innocence that they forgot to save a piece for later and cherish its rich taste. They would have thrown the seed away because it tasted bitter and unsatisfying, especially after the sweetness of the whole fruit. I would have thrown it away, and now I can't find it. I think no one can find it.

I think the whole journey of life is to find the seed, the truth that comes with the happiest moments or just the dawn of life. The truth that was bitter, so you ignored its existence and now wander through the universe without your truth.

I think that's why some part of humankind, who believe in the existence of God, throw away their current life and go on a search for God. I think most of them aren't searching for God; they are searching for their purpose and probably the seeded truth that they threw away.

the creation of lovely things,

the bloom of blossom on trees,

and the gentle lick of a dog.

love, grows as deep as it can

and when it's uprooted, it leaves a hole,

a hole that is not wider but narrow,

fill it up if you can, with or without love.

love, when it touches you, your soul shatters,

but stays up-float, maybe uplifted,

love when decreases,

soul falls, smashes and builds back up.

love, a sincere acknowledgement of trust,

a sincere offering of pleasure

a sincere care

and a sincere nature.

love comes in ways you can't even decipher

love goes away like a rat following the piper

but when it stays, that's the part I remember

As a romantic, I believe, that to survive something, you have to love it

that's why everytime a catastrophe bestows upon me i love it

and that's why I'm always in it because I can't fucking leave it

That's why, when you found me, I was in void not worth remembering,

but as a romantic, i had hung a mirrorball in the centre of it,

and when you finally decided to enter

the mirrorball shone the brightest.

in surprise i looked at you and

Oh my god, as the light filled my eyes,

i remember the world that i loved,

and in that moment I knew,

I was no more a romantic, but a lover

I belong to you and my existence falls prey

and the only thing I want to say

is that I love the universe

what did it tell to my brain

why is it making me happy

oh what did my hands pray to

to get to touch you.

oh what did my mouth say

When our lips pressed

Oh what spell did it cast

to get to touch you

oh what did my legs say

When under the table it intertwined with yours

oh to which mystical land it ran to

to get to touch you

oh what did my shoulders say

When it lean towards yours

what weight did it hold

to get to touch you

oh mystic beauty

my hand trembles, my mouth murmurs, my legs sit, my shoulders drops

they are missing you

they ask me what did you do

digs in like claws of my lover

the dancing grass, loses its life

to it's burning successor

ungrateful words of my normal mind

how can you be normal after being burned

like a matchstick and not a torch

i feel the light fading out.

i look inside and find my carcass

heart beating barely, i see how i was

how i have been, how i can be

the light fades and i cling to sparkles

the void wakes up with the ugly darkness

bleeds out the color of blue

i feel it creeping up my legs

i feel like my boat, no more floats

my nerves barks at the stranger

it shivers at every broken glance

i measure the curve of every smile

and i weigh the unkind weight of words

words that kills, more like a trick

not swift but cunning

i break, i crumble at every hit

i no more cry, i laugh at every thing

life is divine comedy

Oh is it bland due to the concrete roads?

Oh, how does the sky look to you?

What do you mean a tall building blocks your window?

How are the air-conditioned trains?

What do you mean you are too poor to travel isn’t it public transport?

Do the birds chirp in the morning?

What do you mean the Beatles song doesn’t make sense anymore?

Big offices to work in, but your office desk will barely fit in your home?

What do you mean you share it with 4 others?

So you make something your father made in his prime?

What do you mean it's not sufficient now? I thought money stayed the same.

It's still paper right?

If the laborers still get paid the same,

Why did the market change?

Oh god is this what makes Karl Marx roll in his grave?

Isn’t it funny?

I hope the laborer of fast fashion brands knows

The one cloth they made out of 50 that day

Costs more than their daily wage

Oh, you think this place stinks of migrants from a smaller state?

Oh, you call them uneducated and impolite?

Isn’t this the reason your boss hires them?

Cause cheap labor and lots of ways to exploit?

Oh, you think homeless people should earn instead of begging?

Oh, But how would you explain the two-year gap in your resume? Weren't you jobless then?

When two hearts collide

one can see a horizon.

Two completely different souls, meeting at a single line

I thought it was not meant to be,

like how the sky fears the ocean will drown it,

like how the ocean fears, the sky will eat it.

And when I kissed you,

I swear I could see two worlds meet,

horizon.

Because like the ocean

I could see the stars in your eyes