Trial By Fire

You can't use your lovers to stroke your ego,

When all you did was use them.

Honour their memories.

Have some dignity, some love.

It's not fair to be discarded with such indifference once you're done taking from me.

Once you're done entering me, seeing me for who I really am.

Maybe, it's all just a test.

Faith.

Where are you when I need you?

I forget I am a goddess, it's only trial by fire.

My strength is endless, like me. 

Courage. Love. Belief.

French Lovers Do It Better.

We're watching the stars, the sky is cloudless and the moon is bright.

The sea is calm. 

Who would have thought.

No really, who would have thought.

It happens all so quickly.

Here I am fighting all these feelings and he sees right through me.

His accent is thick and his voice is low. I don't understand the words but I understand what he's saying. 

Magic. 

I should probably pinch myself to see if this is real.

Do I deserve this? Do I really deserve this?

It's funny how I've become so cynical with time.

My wounds have healed, but they've left such a bitter taste in my mouth.

I'm used to being violated, roughed up, beaten and worse, discarded post coitus.

And yet I feel most scared when someone shows me love. 

It's a little bit sickening, my inability to choose what is good for me. 

The drugs don't help.

The random fucks don't help.

Nothing helps. I am going quite mad.

Isolation.

Maybe that'll work?

I feel shame, guilt.

He is so pure, so beautiful. 

I not only break his hard and leave him stranded but I have the nerve to fall for someone else immediately after who turns out to be just like the others. What did I even see in him? He was a generic handsome person. But he had no love for me, no love. Only his dick. 

I am a special kind of stupid I guess.

But I don't deserve to rekindle our romance, I have damaged him far too much. It amazes me how gracious he still is with me. He is not hostile, not angry. He only means love. 

How did I fuck it up so badly.

I want to be brave like him, full of love like him. He's a gorgeous soul. 

All I want is for him to find someone or something special again so he can love them like he loved me.

My beautiful, beautiful boy.

The most gentle, the most innocent.

Men come, men go. But he will always be special. 

Not a conquest, not a story.

But someone who taught me to let go and love.

My lover, my salvation. 

Disintegration

Scared to speak, listen.

Scared to walk, run.

Scared to love, fuck.

It all comes undone one fine day.

You're on the ground.

You no longer have the strength to fight.

Hang up those boots, call it a night.

Exit gracefully, stage left.

What was once sacred has now been scarred. 

Man

It's been 4 days so far and I don't know who I am anymore. I like what I hear, but it's like putting together the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that exists only in your head.

My mind is everywhere. I see his face.

But it's a good take. I seem to have underestimated my sincerity. I like to finish what I start these days. 

It's 4 in the morning. "I'm so tired I can't sleep".

And to think he's seen me naked, he's touched me, he's kissed me, he's entered me.

Overwhelming, this nothingness.

It's easy to pretend that it doesn't hurt. But it does.

Everybody else, yet never him. 

To Love Somebody

It's a strange kind of melancholy, knowing that you can't have something that you want so badly. Because unfortunately, not everything is under your control.

I want to kiss him, make love to him.
I want to hear his stories and feel him; the beaming excitement as he reminisces.
I want to wake up in his arms, I don't want him to go.
I want him to stay, love me over and over again.
I want him, I don't need him.

Listening to that old Ellington record on my own, by myself, feels a little bit sad. I miss us lying around, stoned and talking about our journeys so far. It was something off the bucket list. Now it's done, I'm underwhelmed and heartbroken. This is not what I wanted,  this was never what I wanted.

What do I do, I feel all kind of blue.

I used to think I'd be the kind of person I am now when I'd hit that 30-mark. But instead, I find myself sharing these experiences with thirsty thirty-year olds who currently want nothing more, just my body. 

Tit for tat, I guess.

A very sad one where I'm left with the short end of the stick unfortunately.
The story ends and that's that.
Untimely, all I can say. In retrospect, life's always been like that for me. I should have gotten used to it by now, the constant

Growing up is hard.
It is inevitable. Why so early though? I thought I had some more time.

Sinnerman, what have you done?
Everything is always a loop. Breaking out is my salvation.

Religious Extremism

This indifference creeps in slowly. I'm not detached yet, although I wish I were. What to do. My wild heart, my bad choices.

Whether it's casually droppin some e or staying up all night playing music, making music.

I say this again, it's a very selfish love and I don't mind. There is no heartache, only hope.

Some days are bad. I write to myself. I pretend like the demons don't exist. After all, they're only in my head. 

It doesn't matter.

None of this matters.

Up and down, round and round;

like a roller coaster.

The comedown is always painful. It is only natural, unfortunately.

Balance.

Yin and yang.

I wish you'd keep me distracted with your kisses, your love. Not always, only sometimes. 

But you don't exist and yet, I do. 

Walk

I've been waking and baking almost every day these last few weeks and I feel a strange sense of calm. I can almost feel how life will change in a weekish as we hit the studio.

I can see the journey of these last two years when I look back.

So much adventure, pain, love, heartbreak and growing up.

It's been a fun ride so far.

There is no need for validation from anyone but myself. I like being on stage, no, I LOVE being on stage. Even though all eyes are on me, I feel so incredibly free to be myself. I could do this over and over again, till the day my body gives up. 

There is no satisfaction in giving up, it's my journey that counts the most.

My flaws in all my glory.

So far, it's been an absolutely wonderful story.

I am excited about the future, but always, baby steps. 

It's like learning to walk again.

Naïveté/Youth

You don't want me,

You're not mine.

You've only wasted my time.

You're just another one,

Not some kind of divine.

I'm only wasting, wasting my time. 

Erase/Rewind

I want to keep waking up in your arms, over and over again.

Make love to me, over and over again.

Till I give in, to your affection.

Till I have the courage to let go, again, like nothing could ever go wrong.

I used to think I was invincible and it wouldn't matter, the hurt. 

But it does now.

And I know I've been foolish to think that I'll always get back what I give.

It doesn't matter though, none of it matters as our fingers entwine and our lips find each other.

"I'm scared of sex"

So vulnerable, as I lie there, slightly numb from the debacles of the past.

You, you look so beautiful.

All I want is your arms around me.

I want you to bite lick kiss everything, everything; 

Again and again and again.

I don't want to run away after the deed is done. I want to stay in bed and go back to sleep, in your arms. I want to hold you and I want to stay in till the dark from my heart goes away. Over and over again. What is happening to me, I'm just setting myself up for heartache.

I know. I know. I know.

We cuddle for hours, everything is so dandy.

And then you bring him up, my heart sinks.

He's a reminder of all the indifference and cruelty I've faced. I don't want to feel this way, but I do. I do. I try not to think about how cheap he made me feel but I do, I really do. I can't help it. 

"My heart is vulnerable/And I won't give it to you"

Not because I'm incapable, but because I'm so incredibly afraid. 

Little Dreams

Life would have been so much easier if everybody read The Little Prince

And the rapist didn't show up on your facebook.

Eulogies Are Painful

It's a beautiful, rainy night here in Calcutta and I wonder if I'll ever get a chance to spend another monsoon with you, or atleast someone like you.

It's hard to sleep at night not knowing if I'll ever be as content again.

Not happy, just content.

Adulthood is nothing but acceptance;

Of loss,

Of rejection,

Of dejection, 

Of hurt,

Of heartache.

You're not here now, when I need you the most.

You never will be.

But this deep, painful loss has only taught me to hold on.

For it is always calm again after the storm, you just need to wait it out.

Time.

I just need a little bit more time to get over you. 

I'm trying.

But I miss you so much still.

I love you.

I did and always will.

We will be together again some day.

One day.

It cannot be that we weren't meant for greater things, you and I.

If not in this world, then surely the next one.

You make a goddess out of me.

And like a fool, from time to time, I forget.

But you are my karma, you are my salvation.

I have forgotten what you looked like.

I have forgotten your touch, your taste, your smell.

And yet your voice remains etched firmly in my memory, the sweet nothings you'd whisper in my ear.

For everything you were and are to me, I'm thankful.

I'm so thankful for all the love you gave me, although it didn't last forever.

I was your first and also your last, I know love because of you. You make me the lover I am today.

Thank you.

I am you.

You are me. 

You're not gone, I just need to join you when its time.

And when we meet again, I won't ever let go.

I promise. 

Everybody deserves a second chance, don't they? 

Done And Dusted

His touch burns my skin,
His kisses scar my body,
And yet he leaves me craving for more.

I want to explode into this great nothingness that consumes me.

He enters as gently as he retreats.

The traits of a coward, no more.

But tomorrow will be a different day.
He will be nameless, faceless.
Not worthy of even a memory.

Former Lover

Social media is the devil.

I see a picture of you, you look the same even after all this time.

Your wrists, your fingers, your hands.

Your neck, your chin, your lips.

Your stubble, your ears, your everything. 

That same smirk on your face. 

So familiar.
Like the smell of rain, but only a distant memory and nothing more.

Your touch would drive me insane. Your kisses felt comforting. But I'd be lying if I said I've found no one like you.
I have.
Many, too many.
They're all just the same.
Generic men in their 30s.
All the same.
Always, all the same.

Everything is a loop.
I've given up control.
After all this time, I've resigned myself to my fate.

Stag, Royale

It is a problem when you drink yourself silly on weekdays and then force yourself into bitter sobriety over the weekend, when it's just the reverse for everyone else.

But I stay true to the thing I love most, music. Never a tiny compromise there. My morals are not that weak.

There has been so much sex.

The drugs have been endless, relentless.

I crave only for the rock n' roll. 

It's getting rather easy, playing this fool to the world. They walk all over me at the slightest chance they get, I don't even mind anymore. The alcohol numbs the pain. So I do the only thing I can do-play.

My relationship with the outside world gets worse, the better my relationship with my guitar gets. It is a greedy kind of love, it consumes me; wanting me all to itself, it won't share me with the world. I let the feelings pour out. They don't have to be heard, they just need to come out.

Great artistry comes with great isolation. Or something like that. It is scary, so scary. And yet if I don't believe, now, then what is my strength but a farce? 

Losing all perspective feels a strange sort of liberating. 

I am no longer me.

I am.

I am.

Only here, now.

I am.

I am.

It's divine to watch the turbulent sky, crying from the suffering. Hurt and yet still so majestic, like the lioness. 

My pride cannot be hurt so easily, who am I fooling. My pride is in my ability to be a child, a dog and when needed, a lioness.

I am here to experience greater things.

And those who love me know that they will love me forever...

Men Who Are Whores

You inspire me, whereas you use me.

Art.

Art and craft.

The chase must have been such a thrill.

And you're done because you're bored or disinterested or whatever.

Your body doesn't feel the same anymore.

Something's changed.

We're no longer making love, you're fucking me. 

Fuck fuck fuck, how did I get here.

Fuck me, then fuck me over.

So predictable.

You're done? I'm not even close to being there yet! 

Sex.

Sex.

Sex.

Sex.

Come, I let you in.

Just so you can shut down immediately after.

Your lack of any sort of integrity no longer surprises me, nothing surprises me anymore.

How did I get here? What did I do to deserve this? I do not know. But I'm so used to it. It's one goddamn loop.

I want to hold you, tell you everything you make me feel.

Even though it won't have any effect on you, your walls are back up again.

But I want to.

I want to tell you everything I have in my heart.

And when I'm done I want to kiss you goodbye, hoping secretly you won't let me go.

Even though you will.

You seek attention like a child, everything is just a facade.

Baby, you may be a star and everything fancy but you ain't no lover. 

You're just another whore. 

Existential Crises and Other Demons

The blue in your hair is starting to fade,

There are shadows under your eyes.

Your beauty is on the inside, you tell them.

But who's listening?

When did it Stop Making Sense?

Why has it stopped making sense? 

Plug in and play, girl.

That's the only thing you can do. 

Fight fire with fire, but always remember that you're only a little girl and the world is a big bad wolf.

You can't tame it, only protect yourself.

Dinner's getting cold.

You're no longer stoned.

And in some cases, wanted. 

And as dawn breaks, you shut me out.
One last cigarette, I'm scurrying to find clothing.
A year later, full circle.

Sober recollections are strange.

I see them all there, in their own spheres.

Some very, very old acquaintances and some new ones.

The first lover.

The boy who lost me.

The guy I flaked out on.

The one whose heart I broke.

The newish one.

And the more I try to remember, more memories pop up in my head.

But I can't remember your face. I just can't. And it fills me with a strange sense of melancholy. Time heals, but time can also be very cruel. All I have of you are my memories and like fabric, the threads are slowly coming undone, they're starting to break and disintegrate. I hold on as tightly as I can, whatever little I have left of you.

You're not here.

You never will be again.

Everything that I believed in- all gone.

I don't want to lose my faith, it is my only strength.

I have always believed, believed so strongly and yet my universe pushes me down to a deeper, darker abyss. It is as though I have to fight my way back up again like I always do. This is not the first time and this will certainly not be the last. I should know by now. Bla bla bla. 

And yet I'm starting to get so tired already. I don't know how long I can hold on anymore.