Reverie

We come across so many faces everyday. Out of those, perhaps a few are familiar. And a few have a hint of familiarity mixed with a smell of home. And from those few, perhaps a few you can count on. And there is perhaps one or maybe two people with whom you feel safe. So safe that you can put your mask down for a few moments. Be open. Vulnerable. Lie naked under the sheets. With your truth and scars laid bare. Your tired words laid out for them to read. Without the fear of being judged. You close your eyes and stop smiling. The muscles of your face resting. So quiet. So warm. Safe haven.  Some crave for that safe haven so much that they try to find home in every face they see and every body they undress. Some search in vain. For decades. Some go mad. Some cover their emptiness with hollow smiles and caustic eye-rolls.  Safe. Home. You. #reverie Art: Pascal Campion @pascalcampionart 💙

Insomnia.  Open book.  A half-eaten piece of pie.  The phone lying beside with the gallery open.  The mind is a late night train station in these wee hours of the morning. A little cold, almost empty. A few lights blinking here and there. The whistle of a slow train of thoughts chugging in at intervals. Mostly smoke and fog. Almost reminded of an old tune she used to hum after a long bout of love making. Almost.  Plugged the earphones in. Turned the volume up to block out all the noise coming from the memory chute.  Hard rock can be so damn soothing. #reverie From the archives, 2019

We wrote memories on paper planes. Little words interlinked to make poetry. Floating. Up in the air they went. So high you almost felt euphoric. Wonder and awe filled the stars in your eyes. Magic dripped and glistened down your cheeks. And I felt the corners of my lips reluctantly pull up in an answering smile. Brain storming and colour coding our  notes. Ink spots and pencil shavings covered the desk. Borrowed books and highlighted formulae. Setting the alarm for 5am. Snickering 'cause we knew it was pointless. The snooze button knew our secret. Glitter pens and crayons. Chart papers and graphs. Instant noodles and incessant doodles. The sly kick under the table. Hiding the answering smile. The teacher's stern look over the glasses. How cleverly you kept your head down . The sums seemed to highly interest you all of a sudden. Paper boats filled with memories slowly bobbed down the water logged lanes. Summer rains drench our thirsty souls while we crib about deadlines and dela

Walking barefoot with timid steps he reaches the shore. The sea waves roll in and play at his feet. Perhaps they try to wash away his miseries in their all comforting foam. The seagulls pay him no attention at all as they swoop up and down, busy in their playful camarederie with the waves.  His eyes sting. For a moment he doesn't know if it's from his pent-up emotions or the tang of the sea breeze. Hours pass by as he stares at the horizon.  He inhales a final calming breath. It is twilight. The sky has turned a brilliant flamingo pink. A crooked little smile has carved its way onto his face to his mild surprise.  He knows it was just another day of lessons learnt the hard way. There will be another twilight the next day and the day after that. Just like this one. Perhaps, even pink-er than this one. And with that faith in his heart, he squints far into the horizon trying to breathe in the tranquility and the zing of the sea into his soul. #reverie From the archives, 2019

I can't find the door to this panic room. Stuck in a perpetual limbo.  Where is the damn switch when you need to turn it off. For some it might seem like rush hour traffic but here in the drumroll of my headspace there is a constant red light looming infront. The cacophony of doubts, blaring horns of failure and what-ifs blur the effect of tranquilisers.  Deep breaths.  A sip of water.  There, there.  Crack. The whip of maybes and nervous laughter are seeping through the crannies.  Stop it. Quick.  Bleed, bleed onto the ravines of despair.  Anxiety is my little sister who keeps hiding behind me and holds onto my fingers with a frantic, tight grip.  I hold her tight in my arms. Whisper softly to her, "Shh my darling, it'll be alright." #reverie From the archives, 2019

  Rock drowns tears well.  Slow burn or howling screams.  The beats of the drums crowding with guitar pangs tear apart and stitch it all together. I am whole again. Solace. 'With or without you.' I am here.  Too many words. Curses hurled over my head. 'Wonderwall' protects my sanity. No man's land. They don't understand. I don't wanna make them. Too tired to explain myself. They judge nevertheless. Kindness  is a lie. Jibes hurt only too much. Self-respect and infatuations fight tooth and nail. In the end, panic wins. Disco lights and conundrum. I run scared through walls in tunnels in prolonged nightmares.  I can't protect her from the one she chose to love, in sickness and in health. . Faith is fickle. My abuelita tells me it will all be okay. I want to believe her. I do. I close my eyes and count to ten. Hide my silent sobs in her quiet prayers. Cashmere sleeves hide her scars.  Turn up the volume. 'Your body's a wonderland.' I think she&#

Boxes. That's where I put them all.  Memories. People. Feelings. All of it. Boxes in hidden places. Chancing upon them from time to time when I try to look for lost things. Bumping into some when I am a little lost. Logic. Practicality. Blood routines. Duties. The festivities keep getting louder.  I lost my spects on the crowded train today. Helplessness had never felt this real before. Is it true that you can't hear well without glasses? Happens to me. As the din got louder around me, I started to fade. The colours started to mingle like in that of an oil canvas. The cacophony drowned my senses. The whistle of the old kettle brought me back to today. The maid threw me a searching look. I tried hard to recover my composure. That's the thing bout boxes.  They keep turning up in unwanted places at odd hours. The racket outside the kitchen windows announce the arrival of the deity in the pandal. Festivities again. This time I'll cover the boxes in shiny red paper I promise

"Just when the caterpillar thought its life was over, it became a butterfly" - Anonymous Here's to letting go and holding on.  To heavy hearts and forced smiles through watery eyes.  To putting on a brave face in the face of storms.  To standing up for what you believe in despite a thousand brickbats.  To having to be strong for the sake of  your beloveds.  To shovelling through the snow of doubts and inexplicable loss.  To holding on till the afterglow.  To hoping. To believing. To loving.  To new beginnings.  And good-byes.  #reverie From the archives

I wish. That must be the most used and abused go-to phrase of mine. I wish. And despite knowing that this ain't a fairytale, I go on wishing. I wish I had ceased the first chance I had. Or even the second one. I was waiting for what? A third chance that will probably never come. I wish I had the nerve to walk up to her and tell her my feelings. I wish I was a better person to the ones who had actually cared. I wish I could go on pretending we were okay. I wish I was the smart and confident person she thought I was. I wish. Yeah I wish for a lot many things. Too many things. Impossible things. And yet. I wish. #reverie

  With a wisp of smoke and a sip of wine A cup of raw emotions and a half sung line Lost in a trance and dreaming of romance But I couldn't hold your gaze it was too much too soon Here with a binder full of expectations and charts of possibilities While I lay drunk on sugar-coated economic propositions Bitter blue of your tongue as it lashed through my veins I exalted in the pain and nothingness of it all Looked up at the ceiling and saw galaxies dancing on cobwebs You and me and him and her So close yet so very far Blood song in my ears again Come to haunt me through nights of velvet Here I am and next moment gone Hold me tight  Hush don't break my bones Or break them for all I care My heart my bones my spirit my soul I am not here not really You and I and I and me #reverie From the archives 19/1/2021

 Seven days of sin.  Father, take me home Heaven nor hell beckons me I just need a place to crash in Somewhere far away from the din Enough of the clamour The lights and the noise within The pain, the harrowing emptiness What is freedom, true freedom Love nor belongings Shadows of past mistakes Decisions taken in a hurry Can I get a do-over, please?  You're here today Who knows what tomorrow'll bring Stay a little longer It feels a little like home now The walks get longer The summer breeze unrelenting Toss and turn in the worn-out bedclothes Quietude and tempests alternated Longing and delirium intertwined Breathe, my dear, just breathe.  You're here right now That's all that matters For now atleast Here, caught in the moment.  #reverie From the archives, 2021

Before I go, I wanted to write you a thank you note.  For all the times that you knowingly or unknowingly extended a hand Kindness is a rare but precious gift Each time you go the extra mile for someone You don't know it but it matters A smile here, a word of encouragement there That one time you sat with me through the silence Even a late night voice note can equal a warm hug on a really cold night You didn't know it then but I had been crying the whole day and was almost on the verge of giving up when the phone chimed  You had called to tell me how your dog threw up on your carpet and ruined your new leather shoes That little anecdote had made me smile The other evening when you initiated a conference call 'cause you knew it was Mother's Day and I would be feeling sad The little things which may seem so inconsequential at the moment make all the difference.  So when I go to bed tonight and think of facing tomorrow, I don't feel so hopeless  Because I know out ther

 Secrets and lies Eating away into your being So many unsaid words become a curse upon your very soul Your heart is a dying beast It trembles in agony but mostly heaves its last sighs It's time to bury it all Like one of the many carcasses of your past selves Laid one upon the other Ghosts of loves and lovers Stacked in a haunting memoir of dusty books Poetry is a sham for cowards Hiding behind flowery words  Your filth and blood and broken promises Forever held against you But if you die tonight who would shed a tear Drink up my love for the night is still young  Fools go jumping off the ledge while you sit and smile your sardonic smile never living your truth No wonder you avoid mirrors these days #reverie From the archives, 2021

  Where do we hide all this pent-up anger inside us?  You smile and say "it's okay" You think you have forgiven her All those nights of vitriol rose up in smoke in one simple stroke?  Why then the lashing out?  The uncalled for anger?  The sudden tears?  It's not easy being the bigger person.  Maybe I can never be the bigger person.  I try so hard to move past it all But the mountains of hurt are too steep to climb...  #reverie  From the archives, 2021

"Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood" If I could bleed words I would Rip off the bandages and throw open the wounds to the wind Change comes but slowly while I while away time Counting backwards to the rhythm of the drip-drip of the faucet Sing me a song of survival Flesh wounds dry up with time Scars shine on like badges of honour They only speak of glory once the war ends What of the sleepless nights spent in despair What of the haunted nightmares and cold sweat Ideas are bullet-proof? Then why does it burn to follow through We ended up as echoes of our past selves Send in a search party for the lost causes that went in vain Can you hear me now?  #reverie From the archive, Jul 1'21

I often look at you and wonder I often look at you in wonder Wonder never ceases Sunshine and wonder But mostly wonder I wonder at your kindness At the purity of your intentions Your honest beautiful little heart full of warmth  How easily you mould to give space to others to grow How tough and resilient you are yet so  soft  You bring light on my darkest days yet never with a loud proclamation It's the quiet filtering of your grace that brings me joy so much joy everyday I often run out of words to express my gratitude but know this I am because you are #reverie From the archives

There's a space between words where our realities collide Sharp edges find friction and our fingers slide off the railings It becomes easier to let go than hold on That little lingering space between dreams and longing where waiting isn't torment or sacrifice but an act of love and privilege A moment caught in between acts when eyes meet and time loses its meaning The argand plane of our story where words are deemed unncessary infront of our volatile senses Afloat in our little bubble just before the spell breaks The clock ticks midnight and the magic ends Immortality never played her game quite right until now As I stare Death in his face and look into the depths of his helpless eyes I know now how Icarus must've felt  What is this euphoric loss  I fly and burn  Crash and soar Tremble and exalt  This is my moment of glory Of fury and loss I find myself in the silence of the breaking dawn In the spaces between your fingers.  #reverie From the archives

Words are so overrated I've been talking non-stop for years I see you, and I am stringing word after word trying to put sense into these half thought-out feelings But I am not really speaking, you see What a wonderfully tragic conundrum Here we are saying all these inconsequential things Repeated chain of words Over and over again It's lost all meaning We talk yet we rarely connect anymore All these layers of sentences Years of pretence Now I can't even distinguish between the facade and the crux When did the facade become me And I lost myself along the way Down the alley of scripted words I just wanted to say No, I didn't wanna say anything I just wanted to look at you Into your eyes long enough to connect I wish you'd give me a little time Just pause for a moment right here and just look Wait a minute and just look Long enough to see what I really mean Not everything can be put into words 'Cause sometimes we don't have the right words Sometimes we don'

  Remember the smell of old library books? How you would hold the worn out copy of an old classic close to your face and smell the magic? How you would trace the folds and bumps and cracks on the rickety cover and tingle with pleasure as you felt its history? Remember those shared moments of sudden eyecontact and knowing smiles over the shelf when you grabbed someone else's favourite? The librarian's secret smile as she issued you a book she knew would change your thoughts forever. The dreamy afternoons spent in the dark, musty magician's lair rummaging through the treasure trove of paperbacks and hardcovers. I miss old libraries. A lot. #reverie From the archives

Tonight is just a line from an unwritten poem, an unsung lovesong, a torn up letter, a forgotten postcard, a faded photograph of times gone by. Tonight I'll think of the past with a wistful smile and sip my bourbon and perhaps wipe a stray tear. And tonight maybe I'll dream of you again. #reverie From the archives 1/5/2021

In my bones In my bones I felt you in my very bones With a sick surety that shook me to my core The fear the pain the lurch in my ribs The tightness in my throat  Unshed emotions Bristling anger The ferocity of it all The urge to rip and claim it all To own it embrace it The darkness  The overwhelming surge of power Bred from vulnerability and helplessness And finally acceptance I was born of blood and rage Ashes to ashes Dust to dust Tasted the seasalt of your forbidden lips Hunger calamity brewing storms Fear traded for soul and sinew Flaming desire of unwanted preys Sizzle and burn in icy vigour Stone-cold and calm Waiting eyes Sinful prayers and tired hands Aching bones in loving arms Thunder and madness Heaven and hell Felt it all in my very bones Hear me scream out your name tonight Laughing in agony Crying in vain Throes of passion pass me by Hades prays for his beloved tonight #reverie From the archives, 22/3/2021

Midnight  Whistling at the top of your lungs Keeping all bad thoughts at bay Nothing can touch us now Hot cocoa and lo-fi for company Crooked smiles and dusty books Lights off Dancing around in our shorts Shards of uneaten lies You smell so good tonight Sweat and musk and your ex's perfume I imagine his face as I kiss you Does it hurt to sing of love?  Summer rains Relentless talks of death Hospital gowns Silence interspersed with the beeping of the bipap machine He passes me a note at dusk "It'll be okay." Where do we go from here?  #reverie From the archives, April 19, 2021

Smile with your eyes one last time No regrets, starry eyes and watery smiles Violins and old memories Guitar strings and the knowing pressure of hands.  Arms touching, we look forward And back at times gone by In a blur of happy and not so happy Wistful nostalgia bordering on melancholy Love, embraces and loosely planted last kisses on sweaty brows.  Of firsts and lasts and all the uncountables in between.  Many and not as many as we wanted.  Living in moments Feeling nineteen all over again at the memory of a familar touch The same old tune of indie blasting on the radio You, me and nostalgia.  Tonight, together.  One last time.  #reverie From the archives, Oct 3, 2020

Hey, summer's here again The days are getting unbearably warm And the nights lonelier I saw you scribbling melancholic poetry again Do you still go on those super long walks of yours  Each longer than the day before They help you clear your mind you said Your mind Your mind with those labyrinthine alleys and bylanes Cobbled streets of unsurety with potholes of despair I wonder if you get lost often in the corner-cafés of your over-wrought mind I miss you.  The mountain air has a certain chilly forgiveness in her breath I visit her to unburden my soul She listens quietly never judging nor complaining Sometimes that is all we need A quiet empath, a kindred heart She listens as I forgive myself over and over again I try to forget the kernels of the past  And look for fresh starts everytime She smiles indulgently and whispers in sighs It's gonna be alright.  I feel a strong craving for dosa this morning He laughs at my pouty request and obliges with a smile As I park my bike near t