The 2d story

A memory
from broken milk teeth
and old old tea table.

Spans into a middle age man,

Or a boy who thinks he is old

Still biting candy out of wrappers

And playing pop music

Chained to the rhythm.

Watching and staring

At the computer screen

Flipping through online sites

Worrying about the MS word cursor.


The coffee mug is empty

My table is cluttered

The song has been playing in loop.


Time is no longer relative

It has actually stopped

My watch has stopped ticking

I can hear time cry.


There is a tiny pimple

On my freshly-mowed cheeks

That I see in Louie’s face

A kaleidoscopic reflection of my childhood.


But sometimes

I feel paper thin

Like I am the paper

Or its me in ink.


I am floating in an origami world

Being floated and folded

Into a fine little duckling

Waiting to be slaughtered.


I am

A product

Among the multitude

Of them stacked

And racked in shelves


No, no. I am a dream.

A slip.

Into some dumb person’s imagination

Where memories are just lying flat

Staring at the skies

Like two lovers

In 2d.


Drunk adulthood.

Strewn in a pile of ashes,
Ejected out of the pilot seat,
Drowned in a glass of liquid;
a hell lot of parachute-talk
for a man who is dyin.

We go. We go. We go places
and then stop time. Kiss and let it go.
We see. We sea. we see movies in old theaters
and we get bored.
We buy popcorn and an old bottle of rum
couple it with two cups of caffeine.
We drink. We smoke.
We drink. We smoke.

I sit in my parent’s house
on the old iron swing
the pale pillow smells of farts
and I hear creaking
of bones and doors.

Lying in a pool of blood,
anxiety has seeped into me
A deafening silence ensues
a trembling heart.

An another pool
glistening in the sun
comes to my mind,
Me and towels
sitting at the edge
staring at clinking glasses
with fancy liquids- like
crayons in my bag

Playing with imaginary friends
and clashing figurines at each other
We wrote stories
We never were scared
We just clashed and clasped
one figurine onto another.