Sparsh Jain

Now before everything is dead
Bring something back to life from your heart.
Even if it fails, try to make that take
Even if you fall, try to make that you stand tall.
...

Some serious dysphoria is talking over my conscious brain;
Sending currents of blasphemy waves.
Bones are cracking and the body is aching.
...

I'd like to write this to words;
As a sage or maybe a peer,
But I want words that can break your heart to tears.
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The question is should we stop or keep dancing forever this way?
Why stop even for a bit into those morbid eyes of others.
Where they undress us from our wit and pride.
When we can be, What we are, A ‘Whole'.
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Feel the artist
Observe and feel your vocal range
Do you feel how you feel?
The half comatose
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She is gone and the poetry began,
The unrest convened and the self-critical trials begun.
Everything is hay, can't you hear the sound?
Strong, Manipulative yet profound.
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Empty is beautiful or Void attracts beauty?
Spiraling, wanting in my life.
Thoughts and perception productions are abstract,
They never answer in singularity.
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I've been waiting long.
The legs hurt, But the soul longs to stand still.

For a distant passive light,
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Long time, no talks.
Not even our eyes meet anymore, rare at-most.
We sit like, with our backs onto each other's.
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'The tourniquet is too tight" was all what you wanted to say.
Maybe I had punctured myself too many times, to not listen to yelps.
All what you wanted to do, was help.
But I was transfixed on the drug.
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There's a difference now, and in those gaps;
Abide, facet of facts.
Subjectivity of preordained anima, and those on the sidewalks;
Contempt much.
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I played god with everyone around.
Turned many tables upside down, building lines.
Broke things to make anew.
Contemplating I was doing true.
...