Wasteland of rhymes

With each passing day, I am constantly being lured by
the conflict of many lives that I live simultaneously
and the meaninglessness of each of them. Credits Leven

I fell again in the morning
Thinking about you


Hold me, while I listen to the Sufi song on my knees in the grass
I close my ears, while noises travel deep into the night
Striking between the two breasts
I shiver and run away from the hullaballoo


I breath manifold lives
That question existence of each other
"Who are you?"
"What do you want?"


I am not in a habit to settle disputes
I close my eyes and start walking.


I became what I am, at seventeen
They screamed, why aren't you singing?
I burnt my harmonium along with my eyes


The letters on the blackboard remained hazy for years
I strained my eyes and wrote lines on the paper, sometimes with sketch pens


The river came to me last night.
It has adapted to its new path -


'I flow beneath the wasteland of rhymes. Find me there