Monthly Archives: April 2013

a thought

a thought of mine slipped off

your hollow collar bone

like a drunk waterdrop



it followed your translucent vein

which was visible beneath your neck

that vein took my thought towards your bosom

and my thought blushed

at the thought of circling around

that pink ring


then it trickled down and

reached the slump of your stomach

which was filled with empty air

and it changed its shape

a million times

and my thought changed too


thought turned colorless

thought turned blind & deaf

the bug of panic bit my thought

and it went mad


something was pulling my thought with full force

and my thought got distorted, distracted

my thought lost its breath


it got sucked in

something sucked it

something filled with cruel wrath.



A (dot)

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Cockbib’s melody

insane frustration
made me gorgeous

a tiger ate caramel custard
and croaked somewhere
far far away

a beige tidal wave
(untidy and playful)
frisked my feet
and rubbed dryness
on my face

It evoked nothing in me
It shuddered nothing
It triggered nothing
It destroyed nothing for me

my guts cringed
and i became all that bullshit you talked about
at your last drunken party

where you had scratch resistant coating
on you

where you had unique mucus
in your tall slim glasses
and you left hickeys on brains
that were skewed and distorted

i became that bruise
of that punch
which you got
from that unknown guy
who was so eager to bury
everything he saw in you

i became that urge
to find that lost lust
in that random stranger
who deduced misery in your touch
and story in your thirst

i became that adjective
you invented
for those crayon eyes
that pierced you and told you
that you are beautiful

i became the probability
you analysed
when your lover felt miserable
in you
and you still smiled
with crimson lips
and serpent ties

i became every trigger
which they licked
to sprinkle the cobwebs
with thorns
on the broken-torn dreams

i became my archenemy
my hamartia
i became you!



-A (dot)

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The man who fell in love with a Bus-stand

Part 1 – The Realization

Let me tell you a story about a boy
who fell in love with a BUS-STAND
All his life, it was in front of his eyes
But he couldn’t see the LOVE
..Until that day..
when he was standing there
waiting for that gloomy bus
which would take him to the mortuary
where he toiled like a dog locked in some ceiling-less building
where he worked with the dead
where his sweat got mixed with the blood
blood of the unknown
blood of the rotten life-less-ness
that red blood which smelled like stale mustard sauce
and which turned blue on his white shirt
with blood blotches and blood stains
with livers, kidneys and intestines in his hands
with ashen eyes and dry mouth
he worked
never changed,
always stayed
the same
but still
LOVE had to happen
he remembered the first time
when he felt LOVE
he was in school
and waiting for the morning bus
to come and pick him up
and suddenly it had started to rain
he was wearing the white shirt..
all his life he worn white shirts
he never wore any other color
just those plain white shirts
he didn’t want the rain drops to spoil his spotless white shirt
he took shelter
BUS-STAND gave him the shelter
he stood there
for that early morning bus to come and pick him up
he waited and waited and waited
and it rained and rained and rained
he was the only one standing there
in the shed of the BUS-STAND
he smiled with the sky
the sky cried with the rain
that day was the day when he realized
that something out of ordinary had happened..
Part 2 – The END
That night
people saw someone
a naked man with blood blotches and bruises all over
some said he had a lot of white shirts in his hands
he was shouting something, almost screaming
some said he was crying and laughing at the same time
some said he had chopped all his fingers and
shaved all his hair from his body
someone saw him hanging his white shirts on the bus stand
he covered the bus stand from his shirts
he kept on wrapping it
till the time it became a big white thing
some said he stood on the roof of the bus stand and slept for sometime
someone saw him spilling petrol on the bus stand
some said he took out a matchbox
and lit it on fire
some said the sight was horrible to look at
a naked man jumping on the roof of a big white thing
in the milky moon light
white cloth started shining when the flames came out of white shirts
soon fire caught the naked man
some said by the morning
there were just ashes of
the white shirts
the bus stand
the naked man
some said he burned his love
to live again.
A (dot)
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Impromptu Face-scratching

Glass eyed she

beat him up like a pulp

like a squashed pumpkin


her hair, like sea-waves made of  tiny bubbles

his eyes, glued on her burnt plastic lips


paper-cuts, her words

slabs of chocolate, her arms


his eyes hopped on this & that

on her cloudy cheek-bones

on her cow-like gawk


hawk was he

rattling in the air


at that time

their emotions

hidden in underpants

but pious


tell is not just a fever

it is a cleaver broad bladed


which will stop their rapid flutters

moisture from the tears, severed


prisoners they will be

in the periphery

marked by red toe-nails



A (dot)

(written in collaboration with –

image courtesy - GOOGLE (may be)

image courtesy – GOOGLE (may be)

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