In my dreams, you will live another day until we meet again. 

                                       – Aniket More


I Could Have Been Your Life If You Wouldn’t Have Been My Death 

Sadness comes with the toll of the bells, recurrent, I’m becoming one with it.The mark of death upon my head, a thousand ravens fly from my orbs taking flight to the sky that is moonlit.
Wild hunger screams from deep within, a chaos in my throat resides,
Tearing the skin, but what’s left inside is a long lost scream.
Unsatisfied, dying alive, now what is left to ask from you?
Another skin that breathes with me, you are someone I never knew.
I don’t trust another being, a new human born every day, leaving less space to breathe and more skin to lick.
I’m struggling to survive, struggling to drink from their necks, I’m struggling like a flower in the desert.
I’m another skin, I’m another wind, I’m the weight of the bones that walks only to be fed to them.
I’m survival of the weakest, I’m dust in her cellar.
I’m the last thought in your mind and the invisible person in your life.
I’m gravelly ill and sadly sick, become sadness that is born from the weak.
I’m a mental disease, I’m Xanax down your throat, 
I’m hallucinations, I’m the lonely boat.
I’m a human with a name plate, I’m a number in the population,
I’m dew drops in the rain and winter when you are naked.
I’m a year when I was born, I’ll be a body when I’ll die, 
I’ll be my death certificate, your last memory and lonely cry. 
I’ll be a smiling face in the pictures, a scar in the sky, a forgotten disease and a living who passed by.
I’ll be dead and more, putrid and gore,
I’ll be fire if you burn me and I’ll be desire if you lit me,
I’ll be your hand if you ask me to, I’ll be your strength if you want me to.
I’ll be more than just skin and bones,
I’ll be more than a grave stone.
I’ll be a father to the new born kids,
I’d be the money to the homeless in need,
I’d be river that is bone dry, I’d be your evening slowing passing by,
I’d be the city you live in and your death bed,
I’d be your new year and eight glasses of wine in pain.
I can be more than the skin that is dry, I can be more than the lonely winter’s cry.
I can be more than the haunting silence in my cries, I can be a human and more than what meets the eye.

© Aniket More

They Write About Love And Loss For Their Paramour While I Write About My Love And Loss For The World

She left you and a war behind, in your head. Your heart is at stake and so is the world. 
Bodies fallen, headless, mutilation of the civilians. What about their lost love? 

He walked away, far away without a reason to display and never returned. You cried for days and months of horror crept on your skin.
At them same time, a solider left, his mother waved him goodbye with a promise of return. He walked away with a loaded gun to serve his country and never returned. She cried for moons, moons passed, the sun died at last and took him with the night. 

Why won’t he love me, you ask? Why won’t he care for me you say?! And it takes your breath away, you choke with misery and failure. 
But when you cry to sleep, a small creature weeps in a long lost alley who is abandoned by his master. He waits for his ascension which is in vain for his master will never return leaving him in abandonment and internal maim. He asks the same question and in depth, receives no response but silence instead. 

Why was I never enough? Why did she leave me for someone else? You yell at the sky asking the clouds that pass by. You imbibe from the transparent bottle that keeps you intoxicated and sane.
Somewhere, they scream in agony and terror in a third world while they are being sold as slaves. They are being sold to a man-made hell. They ask no questions for the sky won’t respond nor the heaven that they believe in for their lord has forsaken them in to the hands of a disgust called human. 

© Aniket More

I Was Once A Happy Man

When you are languishing in internal pain, you see how beautiful the nature is, how alive are the creatures that crawl in it and how you would love to be a part of it and dwell in this moment and because you forever can’t be attached to that moment, you think rather than going back to the chest numbing internal pain, you would hold on to this moment where nature unfurls in you and your eyes but slowly and gradually, it all fades and you have to walk home and reside in those enclosed suffocating walls of memories, laughter and tears; you suddenly recommend death to yourself, don’t you? 
© Aniket More