psipher

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Vagus. This was home. Instagram @varnikachutani

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  • psipher 45w

    Scared that when our paths cross and I would look into your eyes, we won't know each other anymore.
    ©varnika

  • psipher 46w

    I think the reason we see rectilinear is because there is only an extent to which we can bear the sight of what is infront of us. I stare and I don't see anymore; wonder if I could see everything, would I see anything?

    I breathe and I know it's heavy, laboured; and then I smile, ignorant of the oblivion. I have learnt to let go and forgive because while trying to hold on tightly, I have only lost the sands in my hand.

    I was writing something on the gourmet of emotions we feast on and how "we keep wasting colors", and I went blank: I feel till I don't. And when I don't: a prism lacking light.

    Learn from mistakes, but too afraid to make one, and now I die of cure. I could be better, if I waited, but I rather be impatient and call it raw than let it cook and be felt, read, heard.

    Shuffle play playlist, and then skip till I like; trust issues. Find love in trenches and stories in abstracts; then baffled at simplicities. Drive on highways, and die one too many times; alive fore ever.

    Close, and cold; far and shivering. Warm, ever? But if apricity chars me? I am not crying, no. Tears are sold in bottles; dreams in matchboxes; oops: flooded itself, burnt itself.

    Will you know who I am, if I do not, any longer?

    ~varnika

  • psipher 54w

    I have been through dungeons, black and dark; but still do not know the color of char. With my smoke consumptions, puff in or puff out I can not tell. Do not know rhymes, meters anymore; I fail and let words be a testimony. Funny how we started with a cry: alive, we were declared. I cry now; dead is the corpse. Poetries of words I still can not pronounce, who did I score with scores of hyperbolic treacherous wit? Read people with words transcendental: wonder what I ever meant. Hurt, am I? Proportionating metal stabs and paper cuts. Mystery of old: making sense, am I?
    ©varnika

  • psipher 55w

    For darling, I too bear the
    autumnal feuillemort; you
    gifted me the halcyon wars
    that I suffer from engentado.
    Tacenda always pose a better
    option now, since I've always
    been a tenant staying in your
    heart, whose lacuna has already
    been filled by many 'sweethearts'.
    I too shall escape to the oblivion
    as l'appel du vide continues to
    allure me more than your
    pantagruelian habromania.
    ©varnika

  • psipher 60w

    "We are just collection of atoms that come together for a brief period of time and then we fall apart." - Grace from Chemical Hearts.

    This is how i see what i wrote:
    I have seen him smile when he was a living entity who could express. And since the second i saw his lips opening wide to express his joy, i knew it was love. I loved how alive he was, and how his smile made me smile. Now when i have been ending, my whole life is flashing in front of me and i can see him, feel his presence more than he can. I can see him like the collection of atoms which can not bear the test of time any longer and can not let the atoms be prisoned again in the form of an entity, after he has seen himself age and die young (the sand slipping from hands too porous to be a prison for little specks that have been a witness of weathering). During the times i could actually feel him alive and i could touch him (our photons interfering), i was busy capturing the photons rather than seeing them (was lost in photographs) . I never really criticised mess my life was till i was so lost in the mess that i could not find him anymore, and the world crashed and stood and ran, never stayed (sabotaged entropy, until i was too lost in it to not know that world is fleeting by). And i let him go, he was gone. Can i go back to the photons, the ones i missed but captured; and burn all these memorabilia to move on and revive the reality of past when i was not ending, when i was with him (Can i burn the photographs and revive it from ashes when i cease to end) ?

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    I have seen him smile. And since then I knew it was love. I have been ending, and now I can see him. See him like the sand slipping from hands, too porous to be a prison for little specks that have been a witness of weathering. During the times I could actually feel our photons interfering, I was lost in photographs. I never really sabotaged entropy, until I was too lost in it to not know that world is fleeting by. And I let him go, he was gone. Can I burn the photographs and then revive it from ashes when I cease to end?
    ©varnika

  • psipher 61w

    I have had people leave me when they always said if 'we' ever fall apart, they would never be the reason; and yet they are: everytime. Some say i cry and complain too much. Maybe yes, i do. Maybe i shed tears over the most nonsensical things because my soul has been so ripped that i wanted you to give me a band aid. Maybe i let my eyes swell up and stain red, because i did not barricade the feelings, thinking you would be there. Maybe i complain because i expected better of you because you promised me that. Maybe i do not let things just pass at times because i always felt we could talk it out with your bottles of caffeine and a plate of maggi. Maybe i smiled at you too when you were smiling, because you were smiling. Maybe i tried being there for you, as your shoulder to lean on. Maybe i tried walking in your shadows, to be much evident when it is dark. Maybe you never saw me seeing you. Maybe, just maybe, you loved me but not enough to stay.
    ©varnika

  • psipher 61w

    Before I could take another gulp of air just after saying yes, his lips were already on mine. Sliding to my back: his hands; and there we were in the middle of the road, trying to get our first best kiss, with sun roaring above our heads.

    They felt warm. Chocolates and honey saccharine and wines and whiskey addictive. He wanted to have more of mine, better of my lips, my musculature. It all solubilised. Sublime. Exhausting. Heavenly. Love. We were still there, trying to keep pace.

    Bit me then. Ouch. With shivers down my spine, he is my new addiction. I tremble with joy as he caresses my waist, never to leave my breaths mixed with his. And soon we were drinking from each other. The euphoric waters of love and life.

    With heightened sensations, finally isolating our lips. It felt like the end. I wanted more. More of his lips. More of his breaths breathing in me. More of his hands flowing in directions. More of his body chafing against mine. More of his soul, winning me all over. More of him. And him.

    And as the clock struck midnight, I stand there. Scorched and wrecked, I want his eyes on me. Beginning to feel lonely in the crowded multitude, I long him, miss him, crave him. Few moments are like centuries spent. And now I wait to never have to leave his hand in oblivion, because he is not a coincidence but a phenomena.
    ©varnika

  • psipher 63w

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    ©psipher

  • psipher 63w

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    ©psipher

  • psipher 64w

    While you walk along some wilds, perfuming the alleys of your chest, illuminating the void within, stepping on puddles to see how far splashes could fly before they died, I stand, with world crashing down. We have been too close to be together.
    Hurt, is a word rather difficult to explain, you do not know it is hurting until it is metastasized. You breathe in, you breathe out, with mechanisms on default, what if you had to labor for every molecule?
    It is cold, and you do not how to burn enough to not burn. Shivering, lamenting while sitting on specks of grasses centrifuged with dirts, do you not lie down tired of lying?
    Crying is more of a defence mechanism now, to prove you ain't numb to not feel a thing again. We hope it will get better; we both know, in our hearts, there can never be enough punctuations.
    You do not want to be alone, but who are you lying to? Seeing them walk away, leaving your soul empty barren again, you learn to love better, but just not yourself.
    ©varnika