The Hitchhiker

I often find myself stranded, 

in a vast, expansive and desolate lands, 

all around me suddenly blooms despair, 

around me sprouts kaleidoscopic hopelessness 

I am all alone, blissfully lost in the murmurs,

that urge me take a plunge into the shallow 

pool of poor decisions  

and during these moments, I suddenly transform 

into a person they wouldn't ever recognize, 

I, too, don't recognise myself 

I am suddenly a hitchhiker

seeking lands reeking ominous thrills

where I'd revel under the ever secretive veil 

of anonymity 

I am a hitchhiker guided by consciousness alien to me 

I am thumbing up potential serial killers, 

out and about seeking cheap thrills, 

seeking objects to fulfill their sick 

and twisted obsessions 

In these desolate lands, 

I am also seeking cheap thrills, 

in an attempt to merge with nothingness 

and live invisibly in a world that has ever 

demanded unattainable perfection 

The Dreams You Dreamt For Me

I don't know how much you endured, 
I can only imagine, 
and I know my imaginations come short 

but I do try during my infrequent 

intolerable bouts of sobriety, 

to put myself in your big shoes, 

you wear the same size as mine

yet I dare not take a step in your shoes 

they smell of heroism, 

of sacrifices, 

of courage, 

-none of which I can claim for myself, 

often, in my solemn corner that 

reeks of surrender, and defeat 

I think about you in distant lands, 

foraging in foreign lands for a morsel, 

perhaps wondering whether it was all worth it 

you dreamt dreams for me 

but then I grew up and wanted dreams of my own 

they were blurry, 

and I sought clarity among strangers 

drinking away one dream at a time 

now I am merely a shell, 

haunted by pangs of my own ingratitude 

unfortunately, I became me, 

and I ceased being everything else 

I ceased being me in my selfish desire 

to become a stranger among you 

I became a stranger when I became me 

fortunately, I have no more excuses 

I hope to shed this terrible skin of failure, 

so that our paths can cross again 

and I, for the one more, rise 

and introduce myself one last time 

It Wasn't In Vain

there have been nights, 
when you wished sleep would kidnap you, 
and rescue you from the incessant battles, 
with mosquitoes
and the invisible wars inside your head 
Do not give up yet, 
it wasn't in vain 

there have been pains, 

that hurt beyond endurance, 

and each step felt like torture 

but you fought and live on

desperate for another day 

another try, 

for nothing was in pain 

on those days you feel like a failure 

dust yourself up and try one more time 

and another 

and one more time 

because nothing's in vain 

Surrender

in the dreamless sojourns
to world's beyond the horizon, 
the world within stirs with longings, 
as distant as the stars, 
yet still alluring like the impalpable stars 

the sojourns trace, 
a long and meandering path, 
which disappears in the distance, 
in its wake an insatiable void 
drunk with a thousand dreams  

in calm surrender 
gaze at the unlivable dreams 
that leave your heart derelict, 
abandoned in its own wishful thoughts, 
gaze at these dreams 
and dare dream similar dreams again  

It Can Be Tough

it can be tough, 
for words to tumble out 
of a writer's mind onto a blank page, 

and make sense beyond the writer's

petty obsession with mere words 

the right words sometimes 

get stuck in between writing 

and thinking about writing, 

and often, gleaming words, 

spring out of the mind, 

when it is impossible to write 

like when showring or eating 

or making out with a woman 

the writer does not like 

it can be tough, 

a writer's life, 

for one moment one is writing 

but once done, the void 

deepens 

as the next poem or story 

beckons 

Loosen Up

don't let your goals make you insufferable, 
loosen up once in a while, 
and let hours roll by, 
without you having to endure 
the thoughts failure 

let lose once in a while 
it is not crime to miss a goal or two
or three....or six 
you wouldn't die 

loosen up and be alive 
let go of burdens of guilt 
be free like the air 
recharge and get back the goals 
like a thousand hungry lions 

Never Been The Best

I have always thought, 

even without proof, 

that I was the best at what 

I do 

but school happened, 

and I realised I was no better 

than some 

as I strived to keep up with the 

best, 

the best seemed to get better 

I slackened, see-sawed 

and swung like a pendulum 

between best and the worst, 

and the guilt still haunts me 

for I believed if I tried harder, 

I wouldn't be where I am now 

and nothing haunts more than 

the thought that if I tried harder, 

my path would have been different