Nobody quite understands why I don’t write as much

In truth, I might not quite understand it either,

But when I stare at the blankness of my computer monitor

I realise that it’s not a screen but a mirror

And its blankness

Is nothing more than a reflection of my mind.

Continue reading “White”


The Darkness

I like the darkness.
It feels almost shameful,
like a sin, to admit it,
but I do.

In the darkness,
there is a clarity,
an instinctive realness,
which brings everything
out into the open.

See, while others are blinded in it,
the darkness reveals all to me.
It brings out the worst in people,
the best as well,
and there I can see it all.

The darkness is my home, my demesne.

Shelter me in it,
give me strength,
heap upon me a mantle of absolute black
and pray your virtue outshines your flaws
in the darkest of rooms.


“The falling snow represented my current mood”
“The way it fell so slowly, almost suspended in the air”
“Almost like how I felt right now, wallowing in my grief”
“Lost without hope of any success”
“Left in stasis”
“But soon I realised something”
“Though I may glimpse a small portion of a bigger cycle”
“And feel despair”
“There was a significance to the fall”
“For without falling”
“The cycle would never occur”
“And a balance would never be established”
“If I was that snowflake”
“So be it”
“Better to be falling now”
“If one day I will rise to the clouds”
“And fall again
“To enrich the ground”
“To shield a poor soul from the heat”
“To be more than just a snowflake”


My old memories

of an even older friend;


Sometimes we’d play games;

I would hide and she would seek.

She always found me.

We moved out years back,

I haven’t see her since then;

remember missing her.

I’d described her once:

dressed in a white sheet, bloodied,

long of face and fang

Hair to her stomach,

walking on walls and ceilings.

Had the sweetest laugh.

Its been a few years

but I’m pretty sure she wasn’t