pennames aren’t easy to keep up with and i have learnt that only recently. ever since i started writing on the internet and made my amateur works public, which was in September 2020, i have resorted to personas, trying to build some form of an image that would perfectly encapsulate the essence of what i am. my teenage mind fell into the traps of aesthetics, the labels that bind one to a singular idea instead of letting the creative mind do its own thing. shifting in between, i finally settled on one penname which i still use but for consumption rather than creation of content. under that, i had written quite a bunch of poems on substack which i have inclined to reshare here instead because honestly, i don’t want my works scattered around the web like cat litter.
wine (nov 06, 2022)
You spoke
and I drank
every word
like wine.
i’m not depressed (nov 26, 2022)
i’m not depressed / it’s just that i feel tired from time to time / i’m not depressed / i didn’t want to wake up today / i’m not depressed / work has been really getting into me / i’m not depressed / i am slipping into a reading slump / i’m not depressed / i really wanted to cut my hair / i’m not depressed / i don’t feel like eating right now / i’m not depressed / i just overthink a lot lately / i’m not depressed / i sometimes wonder how falling must feel / i’m not depressed / i forget things a lot these days / i’m not depressed / i don’t notice myself staring at random people / i’m not depressed / headaches are quite common nowadays / i’m not depressed / my grades usually fluctuate like that / i’m not depressed / i don’t want to burden you with my feelings / i’m not depressed / i like to remain quiet / i’m not depressed / i feel like i am lost / i’m not depressed / i wonder how the world would be without me.
my head hurts (nov 27, 2022)
My head hurts
And so does my heart.
Pain crawls into each lobe
Of my brain
Like a tenant
Looking for a place to live,
Wreaking havoc
Everywhere it goes,
Again and again.
I wish it would understand
That I am a body
With a soul living in it,
Not a place for people
To throw their dumbbells
At me.
The throbbing never stops,
The constant ebbing ebbing ebbing ebbing
Of thoughts reeling into one another,
A battlefield of my body
That I owe to noone,
And nothing.
And yet I do.
calamity (dec 17, 2022)
It is strange to see
That in each of us,
There is a new nature
Of its own,
The light, the shadow,
The fire, the ice,
All running
In blood and bone,
A calamity
Waiting to siege
Over the heart.
rot (apr 09, 2023)
I have spread myself thin
Over everything,
Sandwiched dry, between
Anxiety and depression.
Mixing…
My train of thought
Stumbles, derails, gets lost,
Lying on the grass to rot.
A brief moment
Of esoteric realisation
Strikes like a match within,
But that too, from within,
Fades out, dim.
open wound (apr 17, 2023)
How inexplicable.
Scars line my chest,
But I always feel as if something
Were stuck inside it,
Grazing under my skin.
The pain writhes me to the core,
What foul play—what more?
I rip the wounds open,
And thrust my fingers in—
I find nothing—
And thrust them out again.
The blood drips from the heart—
Black against the white marble.
I stare and I stare and I stare,
And see myself in the reddened floor.
How insufferable.
perfect blue (apr 22, 2023)
I sometimes wonder how death feels like.
Is it a vermillion sunset, blending in blood from the sky?
Or a perfect blue sunrise, a calling from the heavens’ high?
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
The air feels cold, warm, calming, chaotic—
Listen.
Let the birds speak.
Let the birds sing.
Let them mourn.
Shhhhhh……
They know the secrets.
They know too much.
Ahhh the heavenly touch…
fruit (aug 31, 2023)
I am tired
of my own body,
a temple too unclean for praying,
too clean to abandon.
My heart
is a rotten fruit,
lying on the stone-cold floor
of my ribcage.
My love
is a hungry dog,
craving every bit of crumb,
yet it shakes its head.
My hand
is a thorned bramble,
piercing anything that
I try to hold.
My mind
is a domed glasshouse,
letting in the stars but wary
of the stones.
a waltz with lucifer (mar 01, 2024)
My mother always warned me
of the devil who is right beside us,
whispering unholy words
to drive us to an ill fate.
But my mother also told me I will rot in hell.
But my mother also condemned music.
But my mother also wished me to be a son.
I have been far too lonely,
a million hungry people eye me
like a cornered lamb.
The devil’s breath is on my neck;
I don’t know about love.
I pray for love and I
am answered in more cruelty—
I want to answer
but I shall answer in sin.
Lucifer and I—
we dance until
the moon is blood red.
Lucifer and I—
we bite each others’ lips
and kiss our scars.
Lucifer and I—
we lock our fingers
as our nails crumble.
Lucifer and I—
we burn together
as angels’ wings swallow us.
My girlhood, my godhood—
I could eat a whole ocean.
Better to dance in hell
than kneel in heaven.
somewhere, anywhere, everywhere (apr 07, 2024)
There is a fire in the next building
and the girl in the balcony
looks just like me,
crying after a word with the king of the castle—
I doubt Prometheus felt as much pain
when the vulture ate his heart.
Can a titan feel this?
Am I not a titan
for waking
and walking
and waiting
for nothing?
My bag, an old canvas one my grandmother used.
My rags, a dress I wore for prom years ago.
I feel like a stripper in the middle of the highway
as the eyes of a million people brush over me,
an advertisement of a life that wants a home
but a life no one wants to know.
Home is where you sleep, kissed,
knowing there is someone who will say
good morning to you when you wake up.
I know there is a home out there,
somewhere.
I know there is a soulmate out there,
somewhere.
Somewhere I know
There are hundreds of roads to run away on
and mine lead to the same memories,
the same place,
the same face,
the same walls
that I hate.
I swear I can hear mother cooking in the kitchen,
the tick of the stove,
the whistle of the kettle that sounds like my little sister.
I swear I can smell canola oil which used to make me sneeze,
the scent of mint,
my mother’s fragrance that I can’t find anywhere in the world.
Anywhere please
Broken green-bottle glass
and trickles of blood
on the dirty bedroom floor—
there’s a crack in the pine door
and a crack down my body,
a flaw that grows with each passing day,
hour,
minute,
second—
what time is it?
The calm before the storm always makes me nauseous
and the calm after the storm is a silent pain killer.
It’s raining cats and dogs everywhere
and the wine tastes awful.
I look for my voice in the crowd everywhere
and don’t find it.
I look for my face in the crowd everywhere
and don't find it.
Everywhere again
*****
(Featured Image: Satan as the Fallen Angel by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 1797, via Sotheby’s)
malalai khan 
Dare to disturb the universe?