Unnamed avenues

Take a minute off of whatever you are doing and look back. Look back at everything you left behind. If everything that you carry on your back is hiding your vision and disquieting, in both positive and negative ways, then this writing is just for you. Lend all your senses to this rant.

I am just a traveller. I travel from one heart to another. I do not stay anywhere and I know with more effort, a little luck.. I might find a heart that comes close to giving me a feeling of ‘home‘. There I would stay. I could have missed it or I could be missing it right now. Leave that to me. I am a walker, never a runner. When I am inside your heart, there’s a possibility of me either walking slowly to stay a little longer or me strolling around unnamed avenues and wondering about the mystery that you are.

“The unnamed avenues of the heart are the places where people fall in love and fall in hurt, in no particular order. The unnamed avenues are the roads that your parents asked you to stay away from when you were a kid. They are the crimson boulevards that look beautiful during the autumn to everyone and during the winters only to a few who are okay with nurturing it when it has no leaves. They are the streets that smell of champagne and whiskey. You know who begins with the champagne and who ends up with a whiskey. They are the roads that have broken window panes. Window panes broken because of the crumpled papers thrown at them Not a stone, not a fist, a crumpled paper with an unfinished rant. Don’t tell me you were lucky to find the crumpled papers that belonged to a duffer!”

Do you think I can find a way through all these? Have I been a good guide? Let me know. Because it is with this blind hope against hope I am inside you now. Trying to walk through! I am not listening to your directions, I am listening to your songs. I am not waiting for your promises, I am waiting for your stories that are going to keep me awake. Why do I want to be awake? Because I am not time-bound inside your heart. There’s no night and day. It’s thought-bound. I exist when you think about me and die when you don’t. And that’s one more reason a traveller like me believes that death is never the end and a million stabs can wound you but, never ground you.

I would like to make a toast to all the people, who might not be reading this now.

“All the ways I took lead me out of your heart. Do you still think I was lost? And does that qualify as a reason for everything?

…”

Thanks for lending me your senses, fellow travellers!
Auf Wiedersehen.
(Signed)
just barath.

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The Fallen Angel

Dear you,

You are the fallen angel. The sinner who fell wounded on my paper. And thanks for not acting like you’re the embodiment of innocence.

I know hell would be better than this. By the way, Did you know your sin? Your sin was not being real. Being a shadow of sorts; Being silent; Never reaching people on time; Never being simple. You were too complicated for heaven. They threw you out from that height only because you had wings and you can survive. 

You’re not going to be chained to darkness because, you are the brightest light we’ve ever seen.You are going to be chained to my ink. Your scars will become art on my paper. Your blood will be the spectrum for million colours. I don’t want your blood to fill up oases. Oases mostly become mirages. I just want you to reflect.

I know your wings are heavy and I know that broken wings are the heaviest. Hold my hand and learn to walk. You need to go away very soon. But, find the ink stains you left behind and get back to me if you wish. Just telling..

A day will come when I will not be holding your hand. So pick thyself up soon. Stand with me in my worse. I mean Verse.

For I have a destiny created for you. You will be remembered as the Fallen Angel, the sinner, the art I created. You’ll never be human, you’ll never be one among them, because humans don’t do forevers. You’ll stay in the form you fell down. A word. Not a Satan, not a monster, not a comet, but a Word.

Just when you became mine, your sins have become mine. Don’t Worry! I’m used to those confinements. And we’ll be forever. Fuck the muse, she’s lazier than you. I am not writing to her, until she comes. Okayyy! Don’t give me that look, I’ll write to her only having you around. You’ll be my messenger.

But, if this be the day I celebrate you, should I tend your wounds and let you fly?

Will you take me to your world once and for all, if I let you fly? Because, I am cold and I could use Two Wings for a Blanket. I am crying, I could use the headwinds to wipe it off.

– just Barath©

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To my Fall

I’m talking to you.

I wanted to talk to you.

I don’t know if you ever listened.

Still, I wanted to tell you everything.

Everything from the first memorable oust to this highly delusional second.

From the first moment when smiling was hard to this day when I’ve learnt to master it.

From that first wound on the knee to seventh, doesn’t-matter-so-much one inside the mind.

From the first second of that song to the loop that I never got out of for ages.

I wanted to tell you everything.
So, listen.

Amidst all the days that grew grey,
By all the ways it may.
Minutes you crossed my mind,
Kept me alive to face the hours you weren’t.

“You’re all mine!” that was the biggest, shortest truth you ever spoke on our couch.

Aftermath.
It’s hard to belong to someone else now.
It’s not easy to show someone else the same love.

You’re the fucking drama, not me!
What exactly was the reason?
If you actually have one tell me!

For just that,
Let your heart speak sometime.
It would want to get back in time.
To that, “You’re all mine”.
So that, you never decline.

I find words
Staring at the same doorway
You entered by all the time.

I found you
Looking through the runway
My words mirrors by.

I’m living up all the nine clouds.
Just the grey ones though.

I can’t ask you to come back.
And I am happy.
Only because,

You never left.

-just Barath©

The next one-

To my St.Martins Summer

the hand-written letter

So long!
I have walked so much. You know it! Because the wind pushed your hands into mine and I held it. That kept me walking all those miles along with my ambitious ambitions. I have.. Sorry! I had no idea of leaving it. Until that moment, you felt my hand was so cold and I had to decide between walking alone or giving you moments of discomfort. I chose to leave it. What a fool I was.. I am to have such a thought! 

Was it so cold? My hand! Because, when hands turn cold, they become numb, you don’t feel nothing. But I could feel every small moment of your fingers which were inside my hand. No! I don’t mean to tell you were lying. And you too understand that I am not lying. So, rethink everything and come back to me. I’ll give you the warmth which I guess you want. But, if you don’t want anything I can give that too. I cannot employ some other sentence there. You know that!                                               Was it really cold? Ah! Sorry for asking that over again. I am becoming a normal guy without our ‘we’ moments.

No more Wind-Fingers Shit. Simply hold my hand and punish me with that chill I gave you. Men’s body temperature is comparatively higher I’ve heard.

Only yours
even after the mind defeats the heart.
just barath ©

And they ‘might have’ lived happily one second at a time.. for they knew happily ever-afters are one of the greatest lies History and Art have put-forth

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