They are building altars on bloodied grounds and calling dead gods to bless purging promises they made in their name. They are cultivating hatred for melanin sundresses and rainbows. They are killing trees, making paper, and writing “save trees” on it.
I am a liar.
Let me tell you a story you wouldn’t even try to understand: I have vanished into easels and thrown myself into an ocean of stories.
Continue reading “The Tooth Bunny – Doodle”
“Bunny kinda sus”
She is whiskey in a teacup, swimming under the sunbeams of passions,
lightening at her fingertips painting a graffiti of wild dreamy fables.
Yet icicles are jabbed in her eyelashes, causing wrecks of ships and inaugurating museums for humans.
Continue reading “Lab Rats – Doodle”
“There are only two industries that call their customers ‘users’: illegal drugs and software.”~ Edward Tufte
In my daydreams, I am cuddling the moon and gluing the stars to form constellations like the connect the dots puzzles that arrived in the newspaper every Sunday.Continue reading “Witching Hour: Snippet”
Some of my favorite lyrics from the Atlas album by Sleeping at Last that inspired this creation:Continue reading “Sleeping At Last: Atlas – Doodle”
1. I am a part of an education system where my love for language and learning is surpassed by a rat race choked with competition and pressure.Continue reading “Bulky Bags and Heavy Hearts: Listicle”
The story of Goddess Hestia is the story of warmth scintillating in the hearth. A place you come back to, kicking off your shoes, changing into over worn cartoon pajamas and light the scented candle called ‘home’.Continue reading “The Hearth of Kindness: Prose Poetry”
On days, my heart is a wreckage of Hiroshima and my pulse, echoes the final goodbyes of torpedo bombers in the battle of Midway. I cannot speak because my mouth is clogged, as if someone has force-fed me shards of the broken wind chimes instead of Cheetos for dinner.Continue reading “Refillable Glasses and Empty Spaces: Prose Poetry”
Oh, darling, I see you. I see you radiating like a kaleidoscope of aurora lights during the witch-hour, staring into the mirror for a little bit too long. A little bit too long. You gaze at your curves like they are swirls of sundae gourmet in your isolated hostel that rot during the quarantine.Continue reading “Elegance and Jamais Vu: Prose Poetry”
This year you saw morgue taking human walk-ins and loneliness getting into a life long committed relationship with humanity. Homes appearing in claustrophobic nightmares and dream-catchers sanitized in alcohol, freeing your past demons because the present time is an infinite while loop of a horror movie. Demons are lurking in empty hallways, past demons seem weaker in comparison.
Yesterday night, I swirled a globe with my fingertips that shimmered under the neon fairy lights emerging from my roommate’s canopy wall. It looked like a dilapidated disco ball of a downtown club that shut down not long before the pandemic followed. My eyes were filled with the portion of witches, predatory hunger and gentle fascination, a toxic hazard.
You see, I was desperate, searching for the map of a magic shop. A magic shop that still followed the barter system. I wanted to barter my fears for better dreams.
On good nights, I can think of the future without flinching as if I have crushed the stars of fortune and constellations of fate as if I learned cartography before I learned to dream. The map of the future is planned and scaled, pinned with rusted rose gold push pins on the corkboard of my heart.
-> The shimmering holes in the jar of the sky are the tapestry of entangled neon fairy lights of the Universe. The most ancient of nursery rhymes ever warbled, the wonderment of the wild, the stars.
Stars, the holes in the jar of the sky poked by the space dust and countless unnamed, untamed vapors of the cosmos comfort me.
Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?
Tonight, the sky is the graffiti of stars, the salsa dancers seducing the manifolds of space,
Air, full of exclamation marks like conspiracy theories discussed in neon alleys over pawnshop cigarettes.
You see her, polaroids of wonders of the world in her eyes, casting long shadows on your wall visits you once in a while,
A fallen angel with a crooked halo and an ancient forest for a smile.
I have realized that words, the only evidence of the existence of meanings are the most gorgeously wrecked example of meaningless.
But tell me, Why do you Love?
4.5 billion years from now, the Milky Way and Andromeda will intertwine in the Newtonian snow globe of fates,
The ‘survival of the fittest’ humanity shrinks into indivisibility, smolders into supernovas in outer space.
This four-letter word will exist, an irrational number in binary codes of continuity,
Because you and I are matter, uninterrupted and indestructible beyond infinity.