Pixelated Forms

The clicks froze me back in time,
Stuck in a moment for eternity.
A spiteful look crosses me as I see me,
The glued smile, the bottomless black pool,
Scream from their pixelated cages.
They do not ask for their freedom
No, they are not so ambitious
Nevertheless they ask for some mobility
Some escape from such rigidity,
My devilish twin summons for a gasp of air.

I am gazing into my own death it seems,
A death of emotions
A death of expressions

No mourners, no,no shoulders to cry on
This death is a secret affair
Me and my twin are the sole witnesses, sole victims and sole convicts.

No, no tear is shred
But smiles do come
'How expressive' a voice proclaims
Irony bites hard into my skin
The pain bleeds, it bleeds red with a tinge of green.
The devilish one is exempted.

It is then I realize
I am the grim reaper 
I am the mourner
And I am the guilty.

Musing

I see my old photographs and stare blankly at the image in front of me. Of all the emotions that remain highly coiled inside my being, some lose up a little, just a sliver is what remains of me in those pictures. An out of context portion of me that I dare not call me.

Midnight Thoughts

I repeat words all too often, I repeat them to the extent that they come lose out of their meaning.
Semantic satiation it's called.
If only along with the words their physical manifestations could  also be numbed.
If only saying pain a dozen times
Could somehow make you immune to pain.

Legacy

Clarity

Red Ants

Red ants, Red ants
Marching methodically
Biting surfaces to itchy bits
Clumping into one giant red ball
Of discomfort in orifices distant and proximal
Caring not two pence for my goodness or decree or reputation to maintain human decency
I boasted of my inner goodness
They invaded my insides
They feasted on my pride
Red ants, Red ants
Marching proudly
On shards
Of broken pride

Horizon

All divides are rendered invalid

The horizon dilutes all absolutes

The blue sky commences

The blue sea terminates

In a fashion so delicate

That no eye can tell apart

In the horizon my thoughts take form

In such turbidity, I find my sole piece of coherence.

Legacy

Crisis

I often fear alienation and estrangement but in those brief moments when I sense belonging and familiarity, I cringe further. It's a constant tussle between wanting to stand out & to settle in the crowd. It's in these bits that I gaze at the frailty of our existence in its entirety.
I am not good with words , my grammar is sloppy, I keep a Merriam Webster's by my side whenever I decide to write lest I be misunderstood or worse be considered a simpleton. I can't be a simpleton, I assure myself, how can someone who know words like "Machiavellian" & " Kafkaesque" ever be a simpleton?.
I look closely at my audience, it's a fair mix of  "intellectuals" "pretentious snobs" &  "simpletons". To whom am I catering my thoughts to? And essentially, are my thoughts exclusively mine?
My hypocrisy is beyond measure, my self loathing is a direct result of my insincerity. If it were a physical entity, I would have peeled it off myself in a final act of redemption.
We try to give a meaning to our lives, tagging it with labels like canned juices in a foodmart. But canned juices go bad on expiry while we go bad well before expiry. Canned juices smell bad when rotten while we give away no telltale signs of our decay, that comes way after we have expired.
I just stare towards the night sky and tell myself " I am special, I am made of stardust" but then a little voice knocks some sense into me. All of us are made of stardust, if all of us are made of the same thing, then by definition, no one is special. This realization is both a boon & a bane. It's a constant reminder that I am insignificant. No matter what I do or don't , I still will be forgotten. We will all one day merge into a singularity. That, will be some union.