In the dark cube of the night, one rectangular cutout permits a regulated ray of grey. It is weak and succumbs to the dominating volume of the dark cube. It staggers and falls before it can pierce the cube. Angry red dots stare at me, wanting to be green; to be able to blast the black out of existence with light and sound.

Outside, various night sounds make their way. A gurgling crow, a distant aircraft, late vehicles and an innocent tinkle of a cyclist’s bell.

In this dead night, a life wafts through. Because only light can define surfaces.

We bring this life in a simple stream so that it one day go and become one with the sea.

In my being me you saw someone else and held a mirror to my face. I saw that and what I saw in that mirror reflected on me. I became a different me. When I became that me, I did not recognise myself in my mirror. I remained a stranger to myself. For a while. The me in my mirror then reflected back on me and I become the me that I used to be.

But I lost some of the me that I was. I am now me, but parts of me, I don’t recognise.

I wear makeup now, till my real me shines back again.

Two guys fighting.
One called I Belong.
The other called I Don’t Belong.
I Belong kept pulling inward.
I Don’t Belong kept pushing outward.
No one was winning.
No one was losing.
Both were equally strong.
I Belong said to I Don’t Belong:
“You don’t belong because you do not want to belong.”
I Don’t Belong replied to I Belong:
“You don’t really belong, you are just used to belonging.”
I Belong said to I Don’t Belong:
“You are just like me, you know, all you need to do is believe.”
I Don’t Belong replied to I Belong:
“You are just like me, you know, all you need to do is wake-up.”

And that day, I decided I will keep
Yet the silent punishment seemed harsh. I quiet.
with. good reason. I knew, somehow, had I
begin For it in. Like instantly, to would
to it. Drink spiral. a I endure not
mistake swallow out. it let couldn’t it say
my and inside all it take however, a
was It me. hurt it if Even word.

I choose to rebel against every lifeless formality.

When does it become too much to bear?
When do you call it a day?
When do you stop giving chances to those that will keep taking more?

Green and red of the traffic lights refracted on the drops of rain on the windsheild.

Rain becoming the accused of the murder of good times. Why do people hate the rain?

All the familiarity goes away one day, some day. Nothing remains your own.

Not all those who wear black are villains.
God’s name is uttered even by those that are not saints.
Not all saints utter God’s name.
Some endings are the start of a story.
Some stories never end.
Not every alarm is a wake-up call.
Not every slumber makes you miss an opportunity.
Not every friend is forever.
Not every enemy is forever.
Not every path has a road sign
Not every road sign leads you along a path
Not all debts are yours to repay.
Some favours are best forgotten.

Not all that you say will be heard.
Somethings that you want to say, are best left unsaid.

When you are close by, you never look.
Miles away, you go out of your way.