Showing posts from July, 2019

My poetry is not for foreplay. It's for after sex.

My poetry is not for foreplay. It's for after sex. When you'll light the Marlboro and move to your side of the bed, my poems will be the breath of fresh air in a room filled with smoke. But do not underestimate me. My poems won't be sweet, gentle or mellow. They will be brazen, brutal and bold. I will present them on a sharply-edged knife. The blood on the knife will be hot. Fresh from the wounds I don't allow to heal. You will take a drag from Marlboro - but served with my sinful words - you will feel as if you've snorted cocaine. You will not get high, though. You will see the world in a different light. Murky lanes leading to posh hotels, board rooms and high-rise apartment buildings. In one of those aesthetically decorated rooms, you will see a man f*****g someone's life just for a little pleasure. You will see him getting hard on someone's misery. A woman pleasuring herself while watching a wrecked home that she takes all credit for. To watch

That empty bottle on the top shelf needs a companion and so do I

I was so lonely. Nearly suicidal. I needed someone to unravel the stagnancy, unearth the source of my pain and disperse it into the Ganges. I wanted salvation. And God gave me you. 'Will you talk to me today?' I texted. 'Of course. Call me after 11,' you replied. I wanted to talk to you as a woman, not as a friend. I have a dark-shameful past which I needed to share before I could reclaim the woman in me. I took out the cheapest wine from the refrigerator. $16 bottle from Costco. I took out the tallest glass from the cupboard and filled it to the brim. One-third of the bottle was gone. I drank it in 5 minutes. Another glass in 15. The whole bottle under 45 minutes. Before 11, I was drunk, foggy and free. You called. 'Can I speak freely to you today?' I asked. 'Have you ever not talked freely to me, but anyway, go ahead,' pat came your reply. In my drunken state, I don't remember where I started, I emptied all that I had i

How I met my muse virtually

It was February. It was Friday. It was late at night. I had just emptied half-a-bottle of Blue Label. There was a musk-scented candle burning on the side table. Coke Studio music filled the room and my senses with intrigue. I picked up my phone and started scrolling Instagram randomly. The universe conspired to entrap me in the mystical world of unchaste desires. And I stumbled upon your picture. I froze. Oh-f**k-wow! While my eyes stared at your picture shamelessly, my mind said those words and my body was in a whirlpool of emotions. I've seen men. And I've seen men. You know what I mean. But you - oh man! You were a perfect concoction of handsome features, sublime sensuality and tranquillity dipped in fine scotch. 5 minutes before landing at your picture, I was tipsy. But then I was f*****g drunk on you. You were the magic poets create in words. You were the visual orgasm painters draw on a canvas. You were that risque undertone musicians try to create in

He left me and my love affair with chai ended

His 1000-watt smile under the dim light of the car made him sexier than he actually was. His 5 feet 11-inch lethal body, almond-shaped eyes and perfect manners made a posh exterior every girl fell for. But I fell for the animal he was. He was honest with me. And I was real with him. 'I missed you,' he said. 'Did you miss me?' he glanced at me while racing the car on Ambala-Chandigarh highway. 'No . I didn't.' I lied. He pressed the accelerator harder only to stop on a secluded road. It was dark already, but his intentions were darker. 'So,' he said while leaping onto my side. 'You didn't miss me.' I looked straight into his eyes but before any word could come out of my mouth, he was inside it. Then he came on top of me. He kissed my neck and inhaled on it. 'You wear the best of perfumes. You know when I led my troop to that village last week, I was buttoning up my shirt and thought of how you smell. Oh, you make me so hard!'

Proceed With Caution: She May Appear Sweet Par Ladki Bomb Hai

A guy messaged me.  I don't judge people. I talk to them politely. So very-very politely but not-so-humbly I replied this. "Hey G****t, First, see how I started by mentioning your name - it adds a personal touch and assures the reader the message is not a copy-paste. Second, you don’t follow me or have interacted with me ever. When you will actually like a girl, invest your time in her. It’s very gentlemanly to do that. In millennial lingo, it’s about making a smooth entry. Third, I truly appreciate your wordplay in the second paragraph. It has a personal touch. I presume from your bio that you are studying law, I’d suggest purely as someone who has studied law and is also a writer, use this skill to be a good lawyer. Fourth, if this is a case of copy-paste to many girls, my message may hurt your ego or you would smirk at the fact that I replied back. Know I use every single piece of my writing to get a job. This would also help. So thank you.