A sky sculpted of silence,
At behest of a voiceless cry,
Somebody awaits my hymns again.
My tongue swirls itself :
A snake bathing in the burning blood.
The same nightmare again,
Where my veins smell of dead flowers.
The eyes turn into a vehement dark pond.
A feast of wingless ravens, slowly eating themselves to death :
My heart wasn’t that useful anyways.
Come close today , Stay.
Taste this macabre of my lips.
© Shashank Bhardwaj
A train passes me by like a bullet
People surround me like a swarm of bees
till I become one of them
Instituted and brain washed.
Riding the bullet
To places where my creativity succumbs
and brain acts like a fucker with no love involved
doing monotonic fucking periodic motions.
But Why?
Because we trust our feared heart more than our balls.
© Shashank Bhardwaj.
It’s been time,
I carried my heart to dreams,
I fear it might,
get accquainted,
and never comeback,
to a life,
where i need it,
just to beat,
keep my alive,
and never to dream
Sometimes we bury our self deep,
and refuse to get out,
the world outside is scary for us,
without a mere doubt,
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Every time I see the mirror,
I see a contrast of images,
I sometimes see,
a kid wandering in the world,
lost in thoughts,
willing to paint the world,
in canvas of words.
And sometimes,
a writer struggling for words,
to paint the world,
in canvas of never seen words,
But the glass,
is a deceiving perception,
it makes us see,
Either
What we don’t have,
or what we need,
never it shows,
the real me.
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Fear not, I am here,
in your every step,in every despair,
in every pain, in every sigh,
in every tear dropped from your eyes,
in every thought of being alone,
in every sadness you have ever known,
in every path you ever choose,
in every hurdle that gives you blues,
in every way, everytime,
Fear not, I am here
Writings to Heaven 