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A severed head signifies gore,without a reason sometimes,

If its an artifact,it becomes a religious symbol in no time,

Our paths are relative,or so we sometimes want them to be,

So when we are at the crossroads,we know in time,theres another one to see,

You would bleed a vessel which wont need to sails to sail,

And you would shed a tear,and it would fail to care,

A man on the train shakes his head too often,unsatisfied it would seem,

One would write senseless on patterns,deciding one's life to be,

His red eyes speak of toxic waste,exponentially seeking chastity,

He would stretch too far sometimes,show us using a coat hangar can be heresy,

We ran across such thoughts once,twice theyve shown to one,

thrice we have met them,acted upon them...none

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Underneath the rainbows of lies and mistakes,

and a wind of love that was not,

the hour hand that was just a little too late,

sands of time showed how they fought,

In our blues we met,

bringing guilt to the light,

Hearts broken and wet,

sins to our own delight,

Afraid of our own touch,

scarred mirrors or was it the faces,

Hands,we did clutched,

like joining mazes to make places,

your farewell to a memory was not over,

mine just struggled to be,

The present knows me,Past was to know her,

while the good and the bad played hide and seek,

We built a house of cards,

leaving the joker behind,

the joke soon caught us off guard,

and the queen threw the king over the line,

Dawned upon by the truth,

if truth was the sunlight,

clouds were us,we dared we could,

Monsoon was just a metaphor over our eyes,

Now we shall part,my clandestine,

a part of us was always apart,

played our parts,scripted by the divine,

ends to ends,ends to my start,

And if we should meet again at a time in space,

How shall I greet thee ?

with that rainbow of lies and mistakes,

another guilt,another secret,another you and me

Spoken Word-1

I travelled your green eyes once,I was sitting on a huge pink bow which never would never bend how much and how badly I wanted it to,
And one day it did, you smiled and I received a flattering reception from those smoother than silk black curtains engulfing a pair of shy emeralds.
I remember how much I loved to sink in the sea-green pond and when you slept,
how I wondered if a mirror is what I would see when there will be light again.
For I knew and believed you wouldn't draw those black curtains forever.
I once got washed down to the pink bow,maybe because I splashed in too much.
For I remember how salty was it to be sweet.
Lot of time has passed by now since Ive lived next to these red vessels and valves.
There is always a rush here, sometimes I try to find the person in this maze of your
shattered pieces of crimson plated glass but he always seem to 'beat' me at it.
Youve always been ruthless to my new residence in you, sometimes causing rain on it,
and then sometimes breaking its windows.
and so it happened, after years of sailing through glittering translucent red liquid
forming rainbows on your skin and those adventurous trips to pick shards of emeralds
the 'thud' monotonicity at my home ceased to exist,the rush stopped,vessels were anchored,
And I swam my way to the green pair of stones where the curtains had closed.

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Theres always a thin line to cross, and sometimes we like to criss the cross,
to draw a streak and to win the game which was never meant to be played,
How else do you think we were always a head or a tail in every toss,
and how do you think we never called Him the first of the wonders,a non man-made,
The line diminishes and the illusion is faith,faith is the line and the reality is late,
for you would know the way I chalk a white across the dead,
that the memories are now just few unconcerned flower beds,
I do believe in the soul and that soul never dies,
It lives after you but where was it all this while,
The answer is you left the soul always at the line that was,
that thin line,that line when we dared to criss the cross....