Clemency.

These are those times which were never meant to transpire. The fact that I jumped from a plane without a parachute was sufficient for it to rain. You can't call that unfortunate can you? But now as I am falling through a rarified ambience towards something I have come to hate, I don't know my probationary powers. All I know is that I have fellowship in thousands of drops which fall with me, none of them have chutes. Such indulgence would certainly call for reprimand, but I know I won't enjoy it, for it would put me back where I don't want to be. I am hoping to miss the ground with all my vengeance acting as a fillip to the parabolic drag.

I am reaching out to the iridescent diamonds; I am filling my imagination with their beguiled experiments with light. I know my eyes would never see this again, I know it won't be the same again. I am a flickering tort pursued by dampness, but it can't fall faster than me. I am a maladroit parachute in vacuum; I cannot feel what I can see. I am a deflated ego, following a Brownian trajectory, creating a perfect round halo. I never had a problem with striped shirts; I would look the same if I was wet.

I am flagrant for once, there were times when you could not unleash adjectives which defined the following paragraph, but we don't live in those times. I love killing the suspense. I love killing. Be it humour, fantasy, ego or rage, I know I have killed it all and thoroughly loved it. Never has pleasure for me assumed such hackneyed proportions, it is as if I would never be sad. I needed an infliction, so I decided to take the plunge. I am suffering now, the journey is the only respite.

Bitterness hits back with a rejoinder, and I rewording it. I swallowed something I cannot discern. Clemency was never a show queen, and never slept with me. I hate her. I love the bitterness of black coffee, I relish its cream. Under a leaking roof all I can feel is the rain. Everything else is a passing vagary, all mundane mildness.

Back to life.

I come across as a dispensable sketch by Picasso
Trying to leash my rebel shadow with a lasso
I am not running from the sun anymore
For I have given it all that I wore

Every motion seems like a hot pursuit
The air hugs me like water flowing through a conduit
I am watching the sunset in the rear view
I am giving up all the love I could ever chew

I am walking away from the wreck of the day
I am giving the stars a name, showing them the way
I am holding diamonds in my hands
I am running in search of unnecessary errands

I feel you in my veins, you are like winter
I feel like releasing you, search for a splinter
I still hang on the old oak in the field
My arms still stretched and the body still peeled

When you gave me that second glance
I knew I did after all stand a chance
So I sold my citadel, and I am free to jump
I am poor again, picking on the garbage dump

Lighthouse.

Two silhouettes block the sun, they look into the ocean
A ship smokes on the horizon, offloading its emotion
A man on the ship looks back, curses the shore
The couple at the shore is smug, they let the waves roar

The kiss when it comes, is hard and long
The light hides all that could go wrong
Hand in hand they accost me, etch me with chalks
I am a memorial for all those whom love stalks

They say the waves shout, as I stand in their way
They say the ships sink because I didn’t show them the way
I never ever felt the need of arms around me
And, yesterday a girl stole my dream to be free

Yet I stand, and shine for ships and couples alike
I am a their confidant, I am their secret dyke
I am their witness, to their promises to change
And, I watch over their past, till it is out of range

Sculpturing ice...

Here I am, setting alight a dark room where I play
A match ensconced between my fingers is here to stay
Icy crimes stare at me, repugnance in their eyes
I was just being myself, my naïve innocence cries

A table sits, in the center of the room
She sits on it, hallucinating amongst the fume
She has the cigarette she stole from the ‘liar’
She can’t find the light so I set myself on fire

I see her curl like the smoke, my breath tastes her
She tastes like early rain, she douses my slur
I could grab her at this moment, but I stare
She wants me to chisel her to memory, I dare

The blue flames, they dance to her travesty
She ain’t blaming me for lack of modesty
I am her potter, she relishes the my flames
I am telling her this won’t qualify for winter games