Untitiled

I write a poem to send you
Look how they pile up
on my bed. Each one for a day
I have not whispered 'I love you'
over the phone. My voice now

drowned in the din
of the ceaseless rain outside.

Voices

Voices in my head
Always telling me things
Facts that I don’t know
Reasons that I can’t see
Embed in the eerie corners
Always devoid of light
A clear conscience not ready

Conflicting realities leave a trail
Leave me cold in the dark
Leading to a different way
A different sense of being
Things I believe in
Gone for a toss
Making me look frail
More than I am

Craving calmly,
For something unknown
Looking outside
And inside the own
Never ending stairways
Lead me nowhere
Feel, I’ve moved
But I’ve regressed.