Rusty and Brittle

An ambiguous desire to exist,

Why do we have that?

Name should remain, as a part of our fame,

It can not matter more to us.

What more could it gain?

All is clichéd, our search is absurd,

Clarity can be reached, but for a moment or two.

Why, I ask, things then become blurred?

Fading is, what we call our nightmares,

Like truth, it happens in layers.

First your body, then your thoughts

Your memory is next

And then there is soul.

One by one, it all churns out.

Gradually, we head to non-existence

But there is a great desire to exist

Like an iceberg's tip.

-knightesS

You're looking at a wreck

It's  a tragedy, to witness 

But nature is as it has been. 

You are looking at me  

And I've become a wreck 

Before now, 

I was plain and simple 

Before that, 

silence was not dark 

Even before that, 

thoughts were not hard.  

You're looking at a wreck, 

And the wreck lets you. 

Best not to make noise,  

Or speak foolishly. 

But If you decide otherwise 

Better not be sympathetic, you. 

Just stare to think and laugh, 

if you want. 

You may like it to disappear, 

I wish it could.  

-knightesS 

Light at the end of the tunnel

There is some inkling on the paper
That sometimes can not resist the water
And washes away.

Perhaps, it has to.

If I cover it with hands
It wont yield
If I let it be in open
It might not heal

But there is always light at the end of the tunnel, if its a day
And only I can see it, nothing is better than faith.

Black be it, the darkness
Dark be it, the sight
Rough be it, the journey
But there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and I can only see it
If I have to.

-knightesS

Drops on the window

There is a window here, from where I see,
In large portions of the day it remains closed by the opaque covers,
Curbing the light mostly and few thoughts,
That would have come otherwise,
This window stands between me and my reflection,
I can peek and know it all,
I can see when the sun is down
And the light is gone, but not further.

Here I sit, with curtains uplifted in front of me,
And I am aware of the sound that comes faintly, like from a distance,
Drops on the window, and no exact reflections today,
Just me, in infinite particles of water, scattered on the surface of this large eyed window,
As the sound grows, I become anxious and timid, more scattered and bewildered,
Touch them, the drops, and they'll merge,
Drops on the window, like thoughts.

-knightesS

Turbulence

There was this lost feeling of turbulence,
Fierce streams became sluggish,
Just the heart beat raced between the extremes.

There was anger mingled in the talks,
In random talks of random nonsense,
All continued in rhythm, all now is past tense.

Misconstrued were the truths of life,
Chases and day dreams, aesthetic ideals were true,
We raced in and out, all races and clans without any clue.

Saw with real eyes, unreal birds singing in the garden,
Caught the fishes with the young ones in the yellow boat,
But once the arrow is released, on the holy water the carcass floats.

We fought the speeds,
Now we ourselves clog the pathways,
With our dead plots of future,
Turbulence is long gone and slugs dried,
Nothing to fight,
Darkness waiting for the light,
Like two ends of the line,
Moving forward and backwards.

-knightesS

Nomad Scribbles

Like the waves that keep moving
Never stopping, always moving
Displacement of words is natural
Sometimes they are at brim
Sometimes dissolved in the grim
Words, oh I lack a lot of them,
Compelled to fill the pages anyhow.

As the ink leaks on the mind like patches,
There are circles formed, like blue suns,
Its an ideology for a scientist,
And disgust for a masochist,
Patches, I wash them all,
Stains are faint, but their boundaries crawl,
I'm those patches, self deprecating.

-knightesS