PSYCHO The hardly noticeable pulsation of its heart Beating at the insides like drums; Regular and systematic Going up and down, fascinating. I think I would have watched it still For minutes at length. There was something about it To begin, a rhythm Matching the vein in my head That was about to pop off. The urgency was on me then That vein in my head would burst. A frustrating agony awaits But my eyes refuse to leave the beast. It was drawing me in The study breathing, music. My heart was thumping with the rush But I needed peace, The vein wouldn't stop emphasizing it. I felt the blade of the cool dagger As it drew hot blood gushing; The creature let out a shrill cry And then came silence. The vein was throbbing no more My heart was finally at ease.
FOR THE RATIOCINATOR as I go deeper into the man that he was it seems to explain the previously unexplainable composition of my own character it becomes much clearer in him I find the excuse for my own derangement we share the same deficiency in the configuration of our nature or it’s just me unconsciously mimicking the legend probably the later but anyhow it expounds my caricature at least for me and I can no longer deny that I am as much of a lunatic as him a reckless mess trying to mirror his logic the unusual in him calls out to me my insanity is in accordance with his the feverish ‘l'appel du vide’ that he often claimed to have overtaken him I have, myself, felt many a times before his madness explains mine I blame it on his presence throughout my impressionable years tender age of growth shapes a person’s mind mine was made to match his in all of it’s abnormality during those vital years of my life I was reading more of him more into him some of the darkness through his words seeped into my soul, unknowingly and still I read him with the intense frequency and adoration of a child till I started morphing into the person he was without ever knowing what exactly I was committing myself to
BLUE It was so empty in that apartment I felt my heart would burst of this loneliness. In that moment I knew, I could never call this place home. Time was running out, It was as if all my life had burnt away Like a cigarette, consumed in its smoke. Just gone. Though I was still here, Still roaming this Earth; Left behind to wander aimlessly. Someone up there had forgotten about me. The wine is turning into vinegar, What a waste! Binging on blue ruin or black smoke, I could still taste blood in the air. The iron assaulting my mouth senseless Meanwhile blue-blooded bastards from under, No good for anything, petty sirens; Were moon kissing their way into oblivion. When I open the windows still, A familiar smell engulfs me. Somewhere down the street, A rose was burning. Can't say I particularly disliked the smell, But it has such a distinct aroma That can be identified anywhere; Smells like innocence on gasoline. It's intoxication feels so wrong, I want to refrain from enjoying it. But I do; One full breath and I am far too deep in it; Right at the bottom of the swimming pool Refusing to swim back up onto the patio, Even if it meant drowning. It's the dark waters that restrain me, You see, but the waves just somehow Romance me into inhaling it; Completely love struck with the poetry. Consciousness makes me feel all mopey So I ditch the norm for a high. Burning with a blue flame, My better judgement, if I had any Couldn’t stop me from going on a one way road. It feels like something a sane person would do. And I am so far beyond sane That there can be no scale for it; Guess the burning smell wasn't coming from outside. Did I finally burst a string? Or my ears are just ringing? The past would often hit me, Out of nowhere, like a sledge hammer. Or act like a reminder on the phone That lights up the screen like a flickering light bulb. Yet the future was a beacon of hope for me, One which was continuously moving; Further and further away, So far at last, that it got out of sight. I had officially given up on me; Even when I opened my eyes I saw blue, miles and miles of it; Dark and deep; Dark and deep.
Prachi Kholia is a Master’s student at the Department of English and Modern European Languages, University of Lucknow. With a curiosity for everything ranging from Science-Fiction to Ancient History and a passionate love for reading; she is obsessed with the stars and the emptiness they reside in, often trying to weave stories through her poems. Her Instagram handle is _prachi98_.
