Dreams of her that flame me.

We are walking on the street. It’s a sober afternoon. I am bored and she looks at me and says, make me cum. We plan to go to my room. We haven’t slept together before this. We haven’t even kissed. We reach the room and there sitting on a chair, is my mother. We sit on bed and I start talking to my mother. There is another boy in the room but I cannot remember who. We look at each other to make sure the moment is still there. I am shuffling stories in my head. Looking for something perfect to say to my mother that would make her leave the room. At this point, even two minutes alone with her would be enough. I finally ask mother to make us both a cup of tea. Mother exits the room. I lock it. She strips. Bare naked. I am fully clothed. She falls on the bed and spreads her legs. She has a small cunt. There is no teasing, no caressing, no kisses and no time. She giggles at me as I approach her. My head falls into her lap and I begin to eat her. There is no moaning. Only her thighs rise. Her stomach fluctuates. The room breathes. And she asks me to keep going. When I stop. She doesn’t cum. She laughs. We hold each other for a moment and I wake up.



I wished for nothing. My wish came true.

On a pale day with where I wore remorse as an ornament on my right wrist, a sunny feeling greeted me with it’s unexpected silence and half smile.

“What’s wrong? “ I asked him repeatedly and his silence grew deeper every time the question came up. “If you’re so sleepy, why did you come to see me?” I asked.

His reply was a gesture that was enough to turn this city into a poem written by Rumi. The kind of a poem that exaggerates the romantic relationship between two star-crossed lovers and leaves behind all the political idiosyncrasies one by one. Our one-hour together fled like a river falling off a cliff. He kept his warm head on my lap and murmured, “Silence is filling me up right now, it’s too much effort to speak. Please understand.”

From my terrace, we appreciated the polluted sky. After all, it’s all we had. I looked away thinking about another place. He stared at me hard with confusion. He himself had no idea as to why he came to see me in such drowsiness.

I felt his neck with my smoke ridden fingers. I was restless. I had been feeling restricted. A part of me felt alive with perpetual dissatisfaction.

He moved his head up and faced me. Both of us, victims of loneliness and slaved to our humanness.

We hate living in the city. We hate the constant buzz of it.

Enveloped in his drowsiness, I started to comfort him. One thing led to another and his mouth reminded me of a dream forgotten. His hands felt like a farmer sowing seeds and his cum tasted like his absence. Strangely nice.

Before I could collect myself before him, stillness hit us. His half smile turned into a light sigh. He walked away and I pleaded him to come sit next to me. The beer was hot now. My mind brimmed with words to say that would only come out on paper.

I came back to my room and wrote this. He’s somewhere drinking our time together, trying to make sense of it and I will stay awake another night.

My toes are itchy.

You are not like

The moon
Is like you

Seasons turn
Within the shift of your bones

You turn in your sleep
An ancient world emerges

In the dream scapes
I build castles alone

I am just a fleeting feeling
Let me pass you by

We never held on to life tightly
Why should we now try

I have been the night
You welcome like a new wave

Now I want to be
Hungrily separate

Now I want to die
Barren and desolate

Now I want my emptiness to repeat
And Tessellate

Now I want to simply

The art of not fucking.

I love to sleep
                The sleep of love
                               With you.

Love makes us

Our smaller hands
        Smaller bodies

Night rushes
Into the arms of my lover
                 The back of her mind
                  The length of her spine

Rhythm of slight movements
Drunk on red wine

Love blooms
In sucking scars
Of each others bodies

Softening the harshness
Under the covers

Alternate longings
Half belongings

The art of fucking
The art of
Sensual longing.


Have you ever met someone who makes you feel like you have just woken up to life?
That person could be bruised in the oddest of ways but for you their bruises hold no value. For you, all that matters is the intensity of your chance encounter of discovering them. You carefully, take each step. You want to explore them like a traveller explores a new city..but its different..its different because even though you are a traveller navigating your way through strange lands trying to find a balance between loneliness and a sense of connection..you somehow feel like this person has been your home all along.
No wonder they say
That souls don’t just meet.
Souls remember. Souls connect.
And sooner or later
The red threads between the two points start pulling them closer.

Time is a precious gift.
Moments are made in an instant.

I have found a home. I have found my moment.
One with a roof made of love.
One that’s gentle and pleasant in its roots.


Past midnight
as we lay on our respective beds
Separated by space and time

United by fate and rhyme

Our voices
Were still getting use to the sounds
Of your laughter
Stuck in wind chimes

Suddenly for you
The pillow felt like a lap

I was put on the map.

We made love-smoothies
That tasted like a lunar eclipse

We raced our way to heaven
On your subtle silence, I tripped.

Now it feels..
And that’s a sign

That our feelings

Love in the Era of Confusion

I am excited to announce that an anthology about love is out on amazon for sale and it contains a short story written by me. Titled ‘Silence is innovation’ . Its been a feely process. Filled with anxiety, anticipation, cold feet and utter self doubts. In the end, I am just glad and grateful to be a part of it. Here is the link to it incase  you would like to read it 🙂



Dreamscapes and me.

I am a sigh breaking into you. I escape from you in the form of distant thoughts. But you tell me a different story. You confess your longing for my words.

I kiss you while you’re wrapped up in the blanket made of oceanic waves. Reflecting moonlight. Turning purple.

Let me know the depths of this geometrical pattern that we form as our bodies dance in half sleepy cuddles. I will undo the way universe has planned our lives.

I will touch you until
My touch
Is the only feeling you can remember.

In every life.

These nights I spend away make me feel like a restless tree caught in a restless wind, moving quite restlessly.