The psychiatrist told me
To remember all the things
That sends light
And warmth
In my heart
Like a ray of sunlight
Scattering all over the rubble we left
That was once called a city.

I told her I can’t
Because the only light
I could see
Is the spark
At the end
Of a barrel of a gun
Straight into
my father’s temple
As my mother made
a shrill noise
Still echoing in my ear
While I sat hushed
On a dark corner,
Hand over my mouth
As if to preserve
What little life
Is left of me.
If there is still any. Continue reading

SurREALITY (A Crappy Short Story)

         No one ever truly knows any answer to life’s greatest questions of all time. Like, Why are we here? or Who created God? Not a single scientific research study could prove or disprove the existence of God or provide an answer to any of these questions. At least none that I know of. Besides, I’ve got questions of my own.

      I don’t really know exactly why I am doing this. Maybe it’s because of the Almanacs my mom used to bring home every month, or maybe the history books, or the History channels. Whatever it is, it became the gasoline to this burning passion to look for answers. And so I buried myself in those history books, I devoted my life in getting a degree, another one for masters, and then another for a doctorate one. My world did not revolve around the sun; it revolved around encryptions, artifacts, symbols and rituals—all for Archaeology.

      One of the greatest fascinations I have, which also fueled my love for archaeology, was the Stonehenge. I first saw it while flipping the pages of a fresh issue of the World Almanac, and it was (not that I believe in it) love at first sight, I guess. And right now, because of yet another field survey, I am standing before it.

     More than 15 years of squinting through almost unreadable ciphers, gasps of discovery after hours and hours of excavations and, lots and lots of caffeine—and I am here, finally, right here, right now. It all feels surreal.

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Love is two-faced
Sometimes it’s a compass
in the middle of a forest;
Sometimes it’s the forest.

Love is two-faced
Sometimes it’s a  round spoon
Scooping you up from rock bottom;
Sometimes it’s a three-pronged fork,
Pinning you down from the pinnacle.

Love is two-faced
Sometimes it’s a nail,
Piecing creaky floorboards together;
Sometimes it’s a hammer,
Shattering frosted window panes
Into artificial glitter.

Love is two-faced,
And anyone who believes otherwise
Is either an optimistic fool,
Or a delusional mess.

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Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel (Lyrics)

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I’ve come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dare
Disturb the sound of silence

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Across the distance
He could hear
The eager rush of the waves
Nearing the fingertips of the shore
“We’ll get there, we’ll get there,
We’re finally getting there.”
Drunk with the charm
Of a promising current
As their wishful hubbub
Turn into multiple,
Successive howls
Hushed to stillness
Drawn back to rest as
Part of the endless ocean
and over
How tragic,
How sorrowful,
How remarkably beautiful.

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How Are You? by Tyler Caine

“it’s the same question
every damn day.
doesn’t matter
who you’re talking to,
it’s always
“how are you?”
you know what that’s like.
it’s the common courtesy
to ask people
how they are doing today.
I get it,
ya know,
it’s the easy ice breaker,
the sympathetic greeting,
that casual
“see, i kinda care about you”
line that is the go to
conversation starter.
I say fuck that line.
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