Sing me to sleep


You are draining
And when I listen
My speech is drowning

You excite me
With distant promises
So I wait and see

When you speak
You come alive
And I turn meek

‘How’s you?’
But I refrain
And so the silence grew

When it’s ready to break
Your mind is far away
I realize what’s at stake

It is you
Your attention
Your affection

You say speak
And I would have
But it’s bleak

I love your words
You don’t care for mine
So I turn into a bird

I sing you to sleep
The inflections cut against my tiny lungs
And the call ends with a beep

You have caged me
And still I sing
So one day I’ll be free

That day is near
It’s in the sun outside my window
It’s in the revelation of my fear

I absolutely do not apologize for the angst that is to come. Never was angsty as a teenager so let’s be angsty now.




There are too many things to do.

There are too many thoughts to think.

And words that want to rip away at the seams.

But these are imaginary seams and imaginary words.

Things that pass over you with such urgency.

And yet it feels like a millennia since you last moved.

Since you last took a breath.

Since you knew what your heartbeat felt like.

And there it goes. Thump. Thump. Thump.

A beat in your chest and your throat which closes in.

You try to sing

But none of it sounds right.

Inside you scream GO!

And your body reciprocates with nothing.

Exhale. I need time to think. I need a moment to believe in the words I set in my head. I need to clean the house. I need to wash the dishes and the laundry and the balcony outside. I need to paint. I need to sing. I need to buy a new E-string. I need to learn how to draw. I need to breathe.

Then a single moment of clarity hits you.

A faint light dancing across your eyes.

A million little electrical explosions in your brain.

A million signals in the limbic.

A thousand injections of dopamine.

You dream.

And you talk in your sleep.

Inhale. I need to know happiness in the things I’ve done. I need to learn how to love without pride and prejudice. I need to stop looking in the mirror and look behind closed eyes. I need to believe in mistakes. I need to worry about the time and how long will I love.

Will I?

Would I want that?

Would I even need that?




You Never Tell Me

Hey, Sunshine

I see sunshine on your face;
It covers all the sadness in the haze
How do you disguise?
How do you realize?
That all you have to give is never enough.
Never enough.

You never tell me
Where you go at night
Back to him?
Back to him.

Is he the drink in your hand?
Is he the drug that you can’t
Give up or surrender to the past?
Or is he the one who says he’ll love you and leaves fast?

Because you never tell me
Where you go at night
Back to him?
Back to him.

I see sunshine on your face
It covers all your sadness.


I was inspired by a song I wrote a few months back. I changed the personal pronoun to ‘him’ as I thought it went well with the picture.

Yes, I do write very depressing songs.


Rant Poetry #3 – Community

Your mother hears things about you,
But your ears are tuned to a different frequency.
She translates for you:
“You don’t dress up,
You don’t speak,
You don’t participate,
You don’t have friends,
You don’t reciprocate.”

Are you anti-social or is it this place?
Started alright, you liked them;
But you were six, they tugged and pulled
At your cheek until the red became
Your very own complexion because
They were all obligated to.
You moved away, grew up a little,
Wasn’t rebellious but that made you
More conscious and more picky;
You knew there was something,
Something different,
A chasm between you and your people.
The more you returned,
The more you realized
Their small horizons
Pushing you out
To the vast world in your hands
So ripe for the taking
And you held on till you bled.

Twenty one years later
You sit awkwardly, silent for the most part.
Your thoughts vanish as they scream,
“Too much for too little,”
And you strain your eyes and ears
In search of something more than
Lipstick, dresses and boys.
A wall of mirrors in exchange for horizons.
A superiority developed out of inferiority.
So you shut your mouth
And let them vent their deficits.

This grape vine never seems to disappoint.

I’ve never felt close to my tribal community and it has everything to do with the way I grew up. I wonder sometimes if I’d stayed back, if I hadn’t traveled and seen and experienced the things that I have if I’d be different.

I don’t mean to point fingers but the point I want to make in this post-rant rant is that I heard something very nasty said to my mother today about how her children don’t contribute to the community. But as much as your blood and my blood are the same, you and I have a very different understanding of community. As human beings, we want so much to be part of a community, to have those people to fall back on and vent and share interests with but my tribe is not my community. Our ideologies are so disparate, the only topic of conversation I could pull off with someone sitting next to me is probably about what I ate or which guys I like.

Living in a city like Delhi, tribal communities matter very much. For most of these people, it’s a matter of solidarity, survival and something to ease the pain of being alone. I’ve seen first-hand how empowering these communities can be and to that I say. “You go girl!” For me, however, it’s about my parents. It’s important to them so I stick around. My social needs are very much taken care of by my lovely family and friends I’ve picked up all around the world and the interweb. It made me LOL when I heard that someone actually thought I had to give back something which I’ve never taken in the first place.

There is a very fucked up thing that’s going on here too; assuming I don’t have friends because they’re not from the tribe or that the friends I have outside the tribe are not REAL friends. Hah.