And then there were none!

She strummed pausing chords on the guitar,

A cigarette dangling on her lips loosely,

The room lay dimly lit in silence,

Smoke bellowing above the old couch.

She poured herself another drink,

Counts of lost lovers gone in each sip,

Her fingers lightly touching the wounds again,

She looks to the glass ceiling on to the stars.

Brightly lit candles give her company,

She sits after a sold out night,

Looking dazzling in her indifference,

In an empty room of scotch and cigarettes.

Laughter of innumerable voices,

Now lost to the grieving room,

Soul sold off to the highest bidder,

An artist’s voice now on hire.

First went the music…

Then it was the lovers…

And then the dazzle…

And then there was None!

What I didn't tell you

All you know is... All I told you

Here's a few not so wise things I learnt in this crazy, smiling mess of a life... I say them out loud... Only cos I cannot take them back then...

Things that scare you are the ones worth talking about the most...

Never say no to a new experience... 

Be promiscuous with your experiences... Not with your mind

Want! Never need!

Be honest with your opinions... Those who stick around are the ones meant to

There should only be one reason to be with someone for life... Love

Love is what you define for yourself

Your body is not a temple... It is a gift!

Timing is nothing... Intention is everything

The world needs more kindness and less money

Know the world around you... Even more so the world inside you

Say the things you think without sugarcoating

Define your standards... Stop following the ones they defined

People will try to control you... Let them... Then let go

Travel makes you more open than anything else

Travel is a way of life... Not an easy one

Figure out who you are before you figure who you want

Everything is a choice

Be the absolute version of yourself... No customizations!

I Call it Magic

Sitting by a window pane,

Dreams about a life in dreams,

Rejecting time,

Broken between the real and the surreal.

I sit by the window still,

Looking at it all,

Looking at what I don’t want,

Looking at what I will never want.

And in their love and loss,

The fear of losing another one,

Greed of the broken winged,

Greed of a lost cause.

Passing through storms,

Lost and found,

Between the music and the musician,

Rhythm of the cursed…

No fear of the unknown,

Fear of the unspoken,

Big Realities…

Bigger Illusions…

Curiosity to a stranger,

From the unknown…

A life against rules of reality,

Moving to the surreal.

Dreams of another window pane…

Dreams of a swim in the open ocean…

Dreams of being lost in the surreal...

Dreams of a lost cause…

I sit by the window still,

Music of the free world,

Realities of a golden cage,

A life of taking flight.

Life as a circle…

In a square box…

I call it Magic…

I call it Truth…

Confessions of a Writer

I like to think I am a Writer.

The content of this post is of an inflammable nature.

It must be indulged in with in the most retarded state of mind

I should have been a better writer. I realized it when I started writing this

I may or may not deny these based on who you are

Indifference is the key. The subject will change.

Promiscuity defines a poet's life. The subject will change.

Bad grammar is fine. Bad writing is not.

Being greedy with Life is good... And only that

Friends are the family you choose... Choose carefully.

Trust no one... The sooner you learn the worse off you will be

Travel is evolution of self in its best form

Lies are always acceptable... Except when it becomes masochistic

Life's style and Lifestyle can be two very different things

Nothing is sexier in a person than intelligence

What I write is the only eternal truth I have