Girls looking for themselves in your eyes

sometimes, sometimes my mind is too strong
to carry on.

Birla Mandir, Kolkata.

Looks like i really enjoy doing architectural photography. I was getting the drift of this in Aurangabad earlier, when we were taken for our Socio Cultural Research trip, especially with Amish's camera, the pictures of which i have tried to snag out of his possession on several occasions, but failed.

I just noticed i had misspelt Aurangabad as AurangaBar.

So much for an attempt at seemly posts trying to hide inebriation.
 

AHAN AHAN

BEE-KHAUZ!

YEAH BAIBEH XD

Mainstream killed me

   

evidently, i got high and felt like a cheesy pop song today.

Feed Me Some Lovin' !

 

ok so this is copied, mostly, from this artwork from this book of club flyer art, but text and little things changed. done mostly for painting practice because i cannot even paint solid colours into basic shapes, yes im that sloppy with the brush.plus i wanted yellowposterlikething for my room. but i LIKETHIS.

But i think i'll give it away.

what is that

 

Are you happy with your frigid zone.

Today i saw Osama's picture and i tell you i hate clean shaven men.

Are you happy with seventy two horses.

are they happy in their bunny suits.

Are these really apples. 

tomorrow, lets visit a clinic and buy that shit man.

Some of the days I dont get any dreams and then I try to fill up my sleep with commercials where there's men waking up with grey hair and no pension plans

I resolve to never tell you when I'm not ok

I want to get an ocean around my eyes, lets drink.

We forget to punctuate sometimes.

-


so whatsup. so my boils are deflating.i want to write flash fiction but i cant.

 

Last time I saw people resting their heads on others' shoulders and elsewhere, saying oh my god its been ages, its been true.The shape your shoulder makes to this other person's head.And you know there's only one other person, holding this horrible spot that hits your boil but you know exactly what you're doing holding them in there, though you don't know what you're doing. Ok bye,you say then.It is love.

It is Sneha.

I'm Still Holding Up The Sky For You

 By Mary Meriam

I’m still here holding up the sky for you
Bawling this heart-to-heart goodbye for you

I’m still the child who cooks the stony stew
The chickadee who learned to fly for you

She looks so rich, her face so fresh and new
You’re more than friends, I catch her sigh for you

Do I sound bitter? Am I green or blue?
Don’t leave again! Don’t make me cry for you!

I send some poems to the Screw Review
I sit around and wait and die for you

The marvel of my muse is constant, true
With dedicated lust, I try for you

_

Because it had been a while since I'd found a piece of simple, direct, formal verse that I like.
.

This, I found on this literary journal.

So what's up. I have many boils on my body. The mammoth one inside my nostril bled itself out like a lover, and that is the only time it acted like one anyway. I am an angry volcano that Just Cannot Erupt. Incapable of  what should be my natural course of action, I fume and boil over and what simmers inside of me possibly finds vents on my slope and then there's little amounts of poison oozing out intermittently but then it just Keeps Happening, Goddammit. 

SO WILL YOU
Start wearing Purple, wearing Purple.
Start wearing Purple for me now?