Sin…!

You did not commit a sin

I did not do any wrong

It was just days of glory

And we were young

We could feast upon the darkness

And watch us melt through the night

We could rain upon each other

And watch us turning into rainbow

Rainbow, which could scream

Our names, across the horizon of

Silence…

We were almost immortal

And we did dare to defy

Gliding through the forbidden

We were children of the gods,

Their dirty little secrets

we were naked and drunk

Oh! We could dance

We could sing

We could fly

We had wings

As long as it lasted,

As much joy did it bring, yet

soon came the end

Sudden and abrupt,

We could not even blink

Being mortal and guilty

We were chained through the walls

Of good and evil,

We were shattered into pieces

And we were sold to the devil

We were hanged

And we were stoned

Sacrificed upon the alters

Of the same gods

Alas…!

Tragedy of Wanderer...

Scribbling: 

 

“Trail of scars

Wounds ajar

Longings of blank page

Silence brings about chaos

Darkness exposes

The night offers no mercy

Choking upon words, unsaid

Drowning upon the tears, unshed

Grave, abode of exiled...”

 

Praveen Parasar

22/03/2019

Imprisoned...!

“In hope  

We are born, 

And again... 

In dread 

We die, 

And again... 

As if cannot help 

But evade, 

Our self... 

But the void  

Remains,  

A stark reminder 

As if imprisoned 

Forever 

In anticipation 

Alas...!” 

Tragedy of Wanderer...

Scribbling: 

Tragedy of Wanderer: 

“Loneliness is like a love that only grows through the distance. Being afar only adds to the passion. Even a mere glimpse proves enough to revive the wilting senses in same way as a traveller rejoices upon a glimpse of the land after being at the mercy of cruel sea for ages. Knowing you would be welcomed in its embrace with all the same fervour, only reignites the longing. However, while poor traveller continues to wait to reach the shores, you end up creating an island of solitude within the sea. You make love upon those same waves, amidst all the noise, oblivious of all the constrains. Melting through, drifting apart, drifting within. Manipulations of the day or night doesn’t concern you anymore, for you find yourself enveloped in a sense of darkness that remains indifferent to overtures of either one. A loyal lover, loneliness promises to find you. Indeed...”

Tragedy of Wanderer:

Scribbling:

Tragedy of Wanderer:

“Orphaned by the day, forsaken by the night and the grim prospect of survival often forces one to prostitutize one’s modest immodesties. They have surprising ability to save one from drowning beyond the limits of life saving despairs. All it needs is pervertization of ones dreams while fetishising about the nightmares. Exaggerations soon leaves you asking for more. You have to dug deeper, beyond the manipulating tempestuous sight of glittery flesh and bones, there you may come to find the hidden treasures of ecstasies. He couldn’t resist licking his wounds, he thought he was keeping them clean. Those insignificant flies pose a significantly greater risk to one’s existential crisis than the dilemmas of despair, perhaps because for them it is just another piece of rotten meat, while one persists to keep it as a souvenir. You are what you eat, but you are also what you leave in the plate. He didn’t like to leave anything behind, he was greedy, couldn’t resist the temptation to devour all of it, even at the cost of being gagged and choked to death in his own vomit. There was nothing to be disgusted about, given a chance perhaps he would have licked the surface clean too. Alas…!”