So, I gazed upon the stars, the galaxies beyond, the stars that cloud my perception, the far away eyes of god.
I looked at the ocean of space around, time and energy all around, life birthing into form, a piercing shriek from the beyond.
A firestorm of stardust, imploded into my dimension, my body scathing in the heat, as a planet spun into dawned existence .
A hallowed action, that super cooled the abode, breathing elixir into rocks that bore their bone.
A spot of green, that pushed up, burst into a bloom, little pollen spray bugs, had a penchant for the bloom.
Life that spread around, crawling above underground, clotted the planet, and initiated their spawn.
Freakish two limbed sapiens, took control, existing as they did, burned the plants down, sucking out the life, feasting on the tissue.
And if that wasn't enough, they spliffed out the core, metal creaky monsters then tremored the globe.
Munching through the skyrock, they ate down the world.
Now Man stands alone, dumbed down shrinked existence, he gloats on his inception.
-Angad Nanda

It hurts when I look back at all the time we shared, moving the hands of that impetuous clock.
Me losing my focus like a ghost inhale, you cutting me open with that love laced blade.
I fell to the cliche', submissed to a dwelling, letting the rot of "us" break into custom.
I knew better, can't let go though, ego step down, my spine going overflow.
Why did you have to do this, be the karma cunt, an intermediate, the grim for love.
Tore me down, broken bond, euthanasia active down sown, you've done this now.
A mess I can't clean, my forte' doesn't sink in, scales tilting in your favor, your hand the upper.
I thought this was different, my virtue shivered, you reinforced that, made me stronger.
Now, I'll never give in, never doubt myself, you'll come and go, but I'll still be there.
Whatever happens, let it be known, the bells ring, the trumpets drown the drumming roll, I made a bad, I will set it right.
Sink back now, die down again, let go of life, sleep again, won't ever wake up, not for your face.
-Angad Nanda

In the morning, your eyes peel away, the dew drops they settle down, like tears they run down your face, your blood moves beneath your flesh, pulsing around your jugular, and I know your heart lurks in the orifice beneath your bosom.

For as tales are are told, the smoke ensues, in pursuit of a luxury your mere mind cannot accommodate. If I could kiss the life off your lips, or gently slit your neck, run my hands into the underside of your body and undress.

To rot in the guilt of a grieving thundercloud, forever rains and freckled frogs. Crush the mix of a putrid elixir, a kind harlot to the withered bitter bodies. Delusional is the enigma fallacy propagates, a broken agenda, I love her and I love her too.

-Angad Nanda

Seven billion hearts strewn around the globe, populous bathed in repetition, no scope for a fair chance, no sonnet for redemption.

But, I still walk that road, the one that leads to a fair abode, rest my head, sink inside, dwell before my thoughts die, a penchant for ideas, a lust for better lies.

Keep filling myself with those somber coves, orifices to darker graves, like tombstones lined with cryptic tales.

I spin webs, just so I don't fall, fall into the truth of us.

To see my love for you, all that pain that boils through, keep dying, only to rise, a promethean guilt guised.

It hurts because I can't say, words suffice but they aren't so right.

Pour my heart out, only to have it lapped up, a dark cloak, the antagonist to virtue.

I do want you, but not like before, the times when my vows were lore.

Every moment without you, my soul craves, my heart keeps pushing away, a boat sliding on still water, nymphs that remora under.
-Angad Nanda

If I could weave a muslin, I'd veil my eyes, a dark texture pixelates my sight. And in this trip of a vision, Ihurl my mind beyond, yonder past God's sight, into a brighter sea.

Pushing past a frontier unknown, I'm but a stranger to this show. A carnival of decadence, wounds still sour, the ground weeps while the sky pours, trapped inside I swim my way to the exit door, only when I get past I know that was only a tour.

You see, Man births Men, and Beast births Beasts, so its only true that evil breeds its kin. Saturation isn't afar, decay needs no catalyst, even if I burned you to the ground, you'd just turn to ashes.

-Angad Nanda 

As I tread upon the beaten path of memories forlorn, a spasm of stardust, a holy cloud of tears adrift, tears that were to be shed upon memories unknown.

I knew then that fate unravels, as does a snake uncoil, reluctant at first but quick to strike upon prey unaware of dangers that lurk within.

A shadow breathes into me, striking the very bottomless pit of my conscience, a fathom unimaginable, anact of complete obscurity.

Better sense prevails as I grasp for my moment of truth, desire not bound wreaths upon the bends of my moral dimension, a craving of kinds, carnal in its least, embellishes an engraving of sorts, a mark that sinks deep, deep within the very confines of my existence.

I cannot begin to fathom the lust it sprouts, a very different kind, one that I shall not define, not because words cannot suffice, but for the mere presence of a mortal undefined, unrefined, a soul as dark as the corrupt heart it embalms.
-Angad Nanda

She pulls off the sheets that otherwise lay bed to peace, she puts on what she has to and tells me to leave. Such doctrine that speaks aeons over and her subjecting me to a cruel corner.
Her heart if pureed, could whip up a sorbet, cold red trinkets of ice, and her lips when locked with mine could only make me pray.
Abstinence makes the heart go wander and lo this monk fares down the beaten path, but ever so softly he treads for the cobblestone is only glass.

-Angad Nanda

I could keep going on, like a chant in your verse, make you the center of my broken universe, you could be that spark, that lights a greater fire, a fire that consumes all my being, with the shards of a tattered soul, I beg for a loom, a loom that laces a weave of love, total surrender is the end, I succumb to the pain of a thousand lies, I only live so I can die, closing my eyes still keep them open, flashes of you and I keep my will broken, all that I wanted, the stuff I wished, burned down to ashes that fade into mist.

If I could I'd toy with the sands of time, run the grains through my fingers, each grain only a memory, If I could, I sail away into the skies, with the lights of million stars shining bright, descend into twilight only to find your eyes, the sparkle of reassurance, the promise to a greater good, but a bird in cage can only sing, sing the songs of a swan, lament and loathe, wish he had a better start to be with her.

And everytime I make a wish, upon a falling star, I know as you must, you're my only star, with the glimmer of million years of travel through space and time, the limit of the cosmics cannot surpass your shine, and as you tickle down into my arms, I feel the warmth of a thousand suns, an embrace that leads to the reflection of my own.
Sins that I wrought upon myself, wreaked havoc, burned a hole right through my soul, only to be healed by the touch of a greater grace, if there was a god, he'd share your face.

Your giggles are like a melody, the bells of a thousand chimes, everytime I hear you, I forget a thousand lies, my life is but a facade, an armor to a weaker me, and you're the only one who gets through to me.
In the end, these are but just simple words, the concoction of a twisted world, my vision is blurred, you are clarity, everytime I see you, my heartbeat's a symphony.

I could keep on going, forever express you and I, bound by the shackles of my shrinked life, regret is an option, you're not a mistake I made, you're the sum of all the bliss I choose to take.
You make me want to live in a world, where I could swim free of sharks, soar right through the mountains, fade into the dark.
Traverse up until the ends of the universe, only to find my way back, your heart's a homing beacon, keeps calling me back.
-Angad Nanda

The tandem beating of a broken sonnet, a soiree for the dead. Your lips wet with dust, your eyes dry. I've tried a million times over to jigsaw us together, missing pieces are inevitable. Your concerns are minuscule, pixels to a forgotten monitor.
I'm sick, and I'm sorry, I can write, I try not to. I love you, I try not to.
When I'm with you, fallacy is mediocre, I can lie only because I want you more, I know the truth isn't the brightest speck there is. 
I lust for you on occasion, but I've come to understand that is imperative that I do, lust fosters love, as much as we deny it, I wouldn't want to see you wrangled and near dead. I want you with me, not because I'm fragile, a part of me just doesn't want to see you go away. 
I'd pull down all the stars I can find, I'd blow out the most emanating lights in the sky, I'd do it in word, I'd do it for you.
I love you, I don't want to lose out on us.
-Angad Nanda 

I tied him down, flat on the cold surgical table, the room around was tiled a ghastly white, the air reeked of a very hospital-like stench, saturated with cleaning agents and disinfectants, although I did smell a faint trace of blood, I’m sure he didn’t notice it, incapacitated as he was.
I found him outside my regular departmental store, nothing odd about him, a regular guy going about his boring life, boring, perhaps that is what struck me as odd, how do you live a life ridiculed by boredom? Maybe, he longed for freedom, I could give it to him, a second chance to be born anew, fast forward his life-cycle, save him from the otherwise grim reality of life, and plunge him into a vortex of prospects unknown.
I am but human, a good deed demands a remuneration of sorts, mine was simple, I will aid in his transgression, be a messiah to his soul, in return he must satiate my bloodlust, pleasure the sadist in me,only he was oblivious to the latter.
So there he was, his eyes split open, squinting under the bright surgical light focused on his face, saliva trickled down the sides of his face, drenching the gag I so neatly shoved down his mouth. I could see that his palms had gone blue, a sickly blue, with his many veins jutting out like ripples in still water, evidence of the tight wrist straps. His knees shook with obvious fear, tremors sourcing from his spine, though I find it rather ironical, this weakling has a spine. As much as I enjoyed watching his pain, I went on to make incisions around his finger nails, I took my scalpel and lightly touched the portion right under the nails, succulent as his flesh was, warm blood trickled down, the red made my hands shake with excitement, not good when you’re cutting somebody up, I made a mess of it, the flesh slid of his bone, not a pretty sight, pale bone with bits of muscle still stuck to its surface and veins wriggling along the side, beating in tune with his heartbeat. I snagged the bit of flesh of to expose naked bone, neater I felt, aesthetically appealing, so I went on to replicate the effect on each of his fingers, stripped the flesh down to the knuckles. His screaming had ended a long time back, he lied unconscious, his spit dry and caked to his skin, the whites of his eyes exposed.”
-Angad Nanda 

Can you hear me?
My lips are sewn tight, the louder I scream the more I bleed. Tell me how the deck settled, did the dealer set you up?
My mind is ballooning into the sea; the waves wash my eyes and bathe the world I see.
A labyrinth I trace, running lines down your body, you only break to dust. You're always a dream. 
I'm lost, find me.

-Angad Nanda

I hate a lot of things, people, places, ideologies and penchants. My mind is a putrid residue of whatever the human brain is held to represent, a gluten of sorts, pulped to a minimum by the many beatings of a sinned existence, if you could travel into my cerebral cavity, the thick miasma of a lifetime of regressed hate will welcome you.
If you’re sick, you go to a doctor. The thing is, no doctor can cure my ailment, this ailment is not a mere entity of this over rated dimension we reside in, it is something of an origin far beyond the grasp of our miniscule minds. Put down into simple words, something you as a reader could decipher without plucking out your scalp and then having to dig out bits of skin and blood from underneath your nails, not to mention the sting of a fresh set of scars lacing your head, I need to kill, somebody, something, anything.
Conscience is vestigial, an accessory we exploit at our convenience. Taking another life is an act reserved only to god, or any apparatus that equals such extravagance. So, if we do take another life, are we equal to a god, do we stand in the same league as the legends and myth. Introspection aside, I wanted to feel the rush of warm blood against my skin, bathing me in its sticky coat of depleting life, clinging onto me in a last ditch effort to bond to another being, one that lives. I wanted to look another in the eyes as the life crept out of him, seeping into the air, merging with the universe, another cog in the circle of life. Birth is an event witnessed every other odd second or so, but death, that is a niche experience, one reserved for a select group of people, the kinds that can shun what the masses rely on.
Since I held murder in such high regard, it is only understandable that I prepare myself for the coming advent. Like all great deeds, I chose to start small. I carefully laid out a trap, a mouse trap, deceit, the oldest of tricks, as simple as it looks, the mouse will come for the bait, and it will enjoy its last meal, a generous serving of biscuit, a notch higher than its everyday frugal sustenance, and as the meal will end, so will start the countdown, the final few beats of the mouse’s hearts will play out in symphony, an orchestra like no other, no effort will be spared to rush blood into every orifice within the mouse, blood that I will later reap. I saw the little rodent, scatter its feet across the floor as it made its way to the trap, oblivious to its obvious end. As he devoured the remainder of the crumbs, I gently laid the trap onto the table, the wood was smooth, stained dark, varnish possibly, blood will soon join that mix. As I opened the trap, for the most minute of a second I could swear I looked deep into that mouse’s eyes and knew that he knew what was in store for him. I lifted him by his tail, and he screeched, and I knew that the symphony had begun, the music of his life’s end, this excited me, watching the mouse struggle to set itself free, it scratched against my skin, causing miniature rivulets of blood, it gnawed against my thumb, uprooting the epidermis, almost grating out bits of my skin. Maybe he thought he stood a chance, and I did not want to kill that hope, I wanted him to truly believe that he could save himself, till the very end, I wanted to leave open the door, and as that door slowly creaked shut, his hope would die down from a flare to nothing more that a crack of light.
Alas, my luck ran out, perhaps there is a god, the mouse escaped with the most astounding agility, and the only blood that stained the table was mine. Globules of red that were once a part of me lined the length of the table, those globules turned to puddles, but it wasn’t because they collected together, but because its source hadn’t stopped the flow of this red elixir. The mouse, in its struggle had gnawed into one of my veins, nibbled into the dark tubing that was responsible for holding my blood in, I could almost imagine bits of my flesh still stuck to that mouse’s teeth as he licked them clean, even commenting on how I tasted. So here I am, my body is rotting, well into the process of decomposition, I still am here, not alive, but present, an invisible witness to my death.
-Angad Nanda