Hate...!

Hate 

we must 

Hate 

for it is just 

Hate 

As much as  

You could not love 

You could not live 

Hate  

For if it leads you to  

your voice 

Hate 

If it connects you to  

Each piece 

Of you 

You could not  

Collect  

You could not  

Connect to 

Pieces 

You would not want to 

Confront too 

Hate  

Even through your corpses 

Beyond the graves 

Let it trample upon 

Let it scream through  

The life 

Allow it to bury  

The days 

Of you, me 

Us 

Watch it burn  

The night 

As well  

Hate  

If that brings you 

Alive 

Hate, you must 

indeed 

Adrenaline  

Is seductive 

Let it suffocate  

You 

While you  

Struggle to hate 

Your love to hate 

Alas...! 

Praveen Parasar 

22/12/2019

Scribbling:

"As it rains 
Those sleepy windowpanes  
Offer 
To tell a tale 
Of a thirst 
Yet to be quenched  
Of a romance, lingering 
In every gaze 
Of a longing 
In every sigh, whispered  
Of a love 
Yet to be loved 
While those parting lips 
Await 
To be kissed  
Again...”

Hallucinations...

“It’s dark inside

It’s dark outside

It’s raining outside

It’s raining inside

There are droplets everywhere

Tears, blood, alcohol, water

Floating around

One wanders

And wonders

Why can’t he break free

Why can’t he find ground

To shatter upon

To fall in pieces

And watch self suffocate

Drowning in vomit and saliva

Death is distant still

As if an utopian dream

It’s a free fall

And there’s no escape

Trapped for eternity

One continues to believe

The rain tonight

Would wash him ashore

Afresh again

Soon, soon

Alas…!”

Praveen Parasar

30/08/2019

Words...

Scribbling: 

Tragedy of Wanderer: 

“I was born among words 

Grew up among them 

Saw them see me 

Rise above the grave 

Still marked by the trails of, 

tears and wounds 

Lost nights and stifling days 

Silent cries and trembling laughter, 

Only to realize suddenly 

I had overgrown them 

There were no words left anymore 

Neither darkness to comfort 

Nor brightness enough to hide beneath 

Left stranded 

I still await  

Another word  

To suffocate me 

Another word  

To sing me a lullaby  

One more word 

To sleep with 

One more word  

To wake up with 

I await 

Another birth 

Another death 

Alas…!” 

Praveen Parasar

28/07/2019

Tragedy of Wanderer:

Scribbling:

 

“It was all too familiar a feeling, a feeling he had been awaiting for long, a feeling of a forsaken evening, awaiting for the night, awaiting for to find a place to hide, to hide beneath the veil of desolation, isolation, desisting the tears to put on the vulgar display of vulnerability, trails of which haunts him all through the day. For despite knowing there is no escape one cannot but attempt one last time, and alas! What awaits is not the escape but a trap in an abyss, abyss that one considers sacred, abyss which consisted of broken bits and pieces; and yet, where one could finally look at himself and feel at home. Home, where darkness flourishes and there’s no mocking of devilish days, where he could wander around naked and yet feel no need to hide his wounds. Wounds, collected over time, collected through the allegedly happy moments, marked upon by forced laughter and crushing embraces. Embraces that engulfs one, moments that suffocates one, and buries one for ever beneath their bullying shadows. And yet here he was holding that glass, drowning in those leftover droplets slowly, letting those trails upon his skin disappear while he watched himself suffer, suffer as if to celebrate his freedom. Freedom, the word that makes even the death smile, and why not...”

Tragedy of Wanderer

Scribbling: 

Tragedy of Wanderer: 

“Where does the violence take you, where do you want to go? Could you ever escape, escape even from whom? You don't even have an enemy, but you, you craving to suffer, craving to watch yourself wriggling, like a trapped fish, yet acting as if you could swim away. You can’t get away, not when you have chosen the path of suffering, chosen to worship your wounds. You crave for air sitting in your rat hole, and you suffocate once the fresh air hits you. You have given up on life, yet life clings to you like an obsessed lover, while the death awaits you around.  You could weep and yet the tears would elude you. You are guilty, guilty of being a manipulator who thought he could see through the rule of the night. You have sold yourself to the darkness, yet you expect yourself to be seen in the light of the day, what mockery you make of your own. Oh! Do you not know that you don’t get to choose your own conviction? You have no other option but to face your shadows, shadows that come alive at dusk, and remind you of your nakedness, your vulnerable flesh and bones, expose you of your dirty lies, make you taste your own blood and overwhelm you. The wounds that you worship are bound to turn into ghosts that haunt you. The heat gets unbearable, drowning in your own sweat, you scream; only to end up being buried in that void, hollowness of your voice suffocates you, breathes burns you, your own smell disgusts you, yet the endless abyss accepts you. You don’t die, remember, you are never to die, but to suffer. Forever, alas!”