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Just because I’m awake doesn’t mean I can’t dream.

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  • quirks- a poem

    i’m where i started, and where i’m going,and the experiences that have made mewith the people that have moulded me. i’m songs on repeat and full volume,and a head full of dreams i wonder i can chase. i’m also fragments of words trying to coalesce into senseand stars still stitching themselves into constellationsand i’m someone…

  • To Be Beautiful- poem

    Sometimes, things are only beautiful Because of the knowledge that they might one day Be no more. That they will escape your grasp, So to make the holding on with as much Passion as you can muster up in that little heart of yours.

  • A Sky Full of Colour

    This is a story of sorts- narrated by a boy who grows up learning to fly kites. He recalls a memory of him flying kites and reminisces looking at a colourless sky. A SKY FULL OF COLOUR Kids my age bruise their fingers playing an electric guitar. I get cut on my fingers while flying…

  • Old Days

    We are constantly making memories. We are living days to look back on, saying things that later become catchphrases, forming our personalities- without realizing any of it. In this bizarre way we move through life, only realizing what we built once we’ve moved on from that stage of life. We talk about the good old…

  • Vast Blue Skies- poem

    I look out and see vast blue skies with endless possibilities.I tiptoe across the clouds to touch the horizonTo feel the taste of fresh air and freedomTo savour the delight of being lost in the mist. My heart thumps and pounds saying my soul is scattered.Saying I’ve drifted into dimensions behind my understanding.Saying there’s no…

  • Sense- poem

    Does sadness make senseWhen the world is breaking down andTears are breaking youInto a million million pieces? Does sorrow make senseWhen mourning seems too soon to do?While grief seeps through the open seams in our livesCarrying us into the sea of tears Does insanity make senseAs we slowly leak away from realityUnable to decipher the…

  • The Airport

    The airport is this place where everyone gets together, different destinations in mind, different routes to get there, different people to reach, but a common urge to go somewhere. It’s almost a gathering of dreamers, clutching tickets they believe might be that ‘change’ in their life. Clutching tickets to go explore a new place, maybe…

  • The Tells of Life- poem

    Life is feats, feasts, and fleeting. Filled with a shot of morning expresso and juice,War and peace.Life is trust and betrayal,Young and ancient,Surprising.Life is annoying alarms at 6am, blurred photographs, wet newspapers, broken dreams,Smuggled in with comfort and curiosity.Life is fascinating, forgetful, feared.Ringing with songs in the shower, crunching of autumn leaves, beautiful harmonies,Piece by…

  • Dreams Dissolve- poem

    Dreams rush down the waterfallAnd stroke the pebbles on their wayThey gush and grumble, gawp and gossip,Growing with each day. They start off as mere droplets of waterBut are soon vast oceans of honeyOne can lick sprays, sprinkles, specksBut cannot swallow a sea. Dreams finally reach the awaited estuaryTo meet a million more of their…

  • The City- poem

    Bombay thumps to a constant beatIn rhythm with the blood that rushes through herLanes and veins its way through theNarrower alleyways and streets. She pumps energy but groans when the sunShines its presence onto her humble organ;She is happier when it thunders. Never failing, always feeling.Living her way into the orange streetlights at Queen’s Necklace…