Love affair with cigarettes  

You've kissed my lips, 
but why didn't you feel me? 
You've touched my fingers, 
but why didn't you hold me? 
Am I not worth you, 
Can't you set me free? 

You lighten yourself among others, 
the ones whom I loved, 
the ones whom I've been loved by, 
But I've always been left behind, 
Will I ever call you mine? 

I stand helplessly, 
to see you tasting people
in front of my eyes, 
But I stand hopefully
someday I will not be dull
and you'll be my prize. 

Many say, you're a menace, 
yet I'm ready to kiss and caress, 
Never mind, 
I'll see you again soon, 
kissing my loved and dear ones, 
I'll be sadly happy to see you
healing their wounds and burns. 



Woken Walks

And the roads
seem alone in 
the naive night, 
do they despise
being lonely,  
or do they enjoy
this presence of 
them only, 

I've tried to know,
I walk down roads, 
but they don't sense
my presence, 
and I shout at them 
for my relevance, 
still, they hide under 
the pretence of ignorance, 

I guess I disrupt their peace
in the dreary dark, 
and somewhere they answer, 
they don't like getting marked, 
emptiness is what they crave
but why am I here, 
do I want the same? 


Sniffs

Smell, odour, aroma and fragrance
Always chase the good kinds, 
at any stance, at any chance, 
good or bad, who defines? 
 
Where are my boxers, 
in my house, I shout
Lie they under the table, 
worn out and torn out
 
I pick them up
put them under my nose
Call me gross 
But this is what I do alone
behind the doors closed. 
 
Why do I do this, 
I don't have any reason,
probably, the odour and aroma
makes me feel human. 
 
Is it bizarre or do you practice it too?
 
find those boxers in the cart, 
don't think much, just do
feel them, sniff them
wear them and dance, 
witness the smells transgress
into a fragrance.

Saturday

Saturdays are dreadful
I stay entirely in the cubicle, 
stare at the heap of clothes,
the heap so weak, 
that it couldn't stand
for a single week, 
I see dirt on the fabric and
the shirt hopefully stares at me, 
waiting to hold and to be held
but I won't, and scarcely
she will feel my scars
on my shoulders, belly
chest, back and arms, 
 
Today I am just naked
lying down on the floor, 
I talk, I sing, I scream, I cry, 
It's raining but I feel dry, 
and my throat is sore, 
I stroke and scratch my wall
and fit the paint in my nails, 
I fight my urges and deeply inhale, 
I'm glad I succeed or I'm sad
I succeed, I don't want to know, 

All I wish is this day to move, 
I'll put clothes on my body
and wear fancy shoes, 
I will run away astray
without feeling weary, 
I need a different day, 
Saturdays are dreary.



Self-portrait

Mirror's
a window,
inside we see,
trying to be
real and free
irresponsibly!