Friday, April 4, 2008


Why are you accusing me

That I’m confused

I have every right to be

I didn’t give you

A promissory note

That I would never be

We didn’t sign an MOU

With penal clauses

Look at it this way

Atleast I accept I am

Not just accept

But revel in it

Nothing like a good

Solid confusion

To rarefy thoughts

State of being

Things as they are and

Not as they ought to be

Like I keep telling you

A good headshake like Mochy

And there is a halo of fluff

Flakes of confusion


Like the dandruff ad

But you know what

Things I wouldn’t dare tell myself

I tell you

Because the one thing we have no room for

Is pretense

In this packed space we have created for ourselves

I wouldn’t call it refuge

That sounds

Like we are running away from something

Our little forgotten corner right under

Everyone’s nose

Whose meaning we gave

Even though we don’t need to speak at all

The place is word-strewn

Remember you asked me

Will we still have

Stuff to talk about

When we meet

I think I agree with you

Not everything comes with

An expiry date