Life, A Myth

I’m sure I’m not living, I’m slowly dying. I came to life when I was born and then the imminent process of death commenced, beyond my comprehension of medical science, of magic potions, of healthy diets and breathing air that is 21 percent of oxygen, I have come to sense that I’m not living, I’m merely surviving and nearing death. Living is a term given to slow death to avoid any panics or uproars in humans. We are simply dying, slowly but surely and living in the disguise of death, how intriguing and horrifying that is, isn’t it?

© Aniket More


To be honest, everyone in their life at some point of time think of tasting death, and if they tell you that they have never thought about it, they are lying. Lie. White Lie.

                                    – Aniket More

I have seen places, so many faces. I’ve felt so many emotions at once but have never been content by one. I’ve seen mornings, beautiful as a sunflower and painful as an open wound scar. Festive lights, days chilly as cold melting ice, warm as my heart and soft as minimal blur, I’ve been there for all. 

                       – Aniket More 

Life in Brief

Ringing bells, sleeping demons durning my midnight shows showing me what I don’t want to. Peering deep into the idiot box called human, found nothing, no contemplation, sigh! Disguise, roaming the world, climbing sky scrapers at 3 am, my playlist ends, battery dies, an accident in my dream, eyes closed or open, made no difference. Felt different, whomever it may concern to. Highlighting my emotions everyday in the e-paper that I read, a circle like scar below my arm, I am delusional or is it fading? Sympathy for myself, coming home alone, lying in posthumous memories, books, texts, alcoholic thoughts, liquid crystal tears, drying up with the come of sunlight. Sleepy walks, tiresome life, breathing flowers crushed under my feet, touched the sky once and maybe more than twice but never again, the sky tore me apart. I became a falling star, sometimes falling in parts of India and outside the country too. A circle of life, those strange red eyes, haunting sighs, a different day, the same scene, a different nightmare, the same day. Too many lifes, too many words, too many thoughts, burn them into a smoke, kill your thoughts, bury them in a garden of death, I said to myself and lock the gate. Put a note reading, “Trespassers will be prosecuted.” 
Living life, modern hell, concrete jail, mature enough to find sense and lose it. Drink twice and more and don’t stop, find lilies and buy them for yourself, I’m the one who is going to pay for lilies and everything else. A square – life, death. No circle invented. I walk in squares and not in circles. Early morning horror, midnight horror- life, simply call it. Live live while a eerie piano plays in the background but my dead cat can’t listen to it. 
The food is burning, the wheels are turning, the vehicle is moving, never going home again. Home is safe but my mind isn’t. It lingers, develops, indulges and tries to seep the pain. 

A tall shadow picks me up and throws me away from the cliff, I die and live again and again and again. Angels don’t exist, in your home, they are locked, only dust exists. You exist, I exist and the world too. Clear water, strange mysterious life. Walk slowly in to the dark hole, don’t scream I tell to myself, you will come out the same or different. The mornings and the midnights will still be the same.

© Aniket More

I Am…

I exist in darkness and tainted love. In ruins and funereal winds. I live in deep wounds and sleeping woods. I’m the silence after the chaos of suicide and self-sacrifice. I’m the tears in her eyes and the lump in his throat. I’m the midnight shadow and the sempiternal toll. I’m her betrayal and his broken trust. I’m the ship rust and the drowning body. I’m the pain unzipping his veins and the summer in her winter nights. I’m the novel that was bookmarked but never read. I’m the insides of the God and the coffin buried under their house. I’m not her’s, nor mine; I’m gone but I will partially subsist. 
© Aniket More