Taste n Tell

Tender,
like a biscuit dipped
in a cup of tea for too long

Swollen,
like a piece of bread
floating in a bowl of milk

Sore,
like feet in sweaty socks
after a rowdy game of football

Bland,
like my wasted poetry
in an angry tubelit room

Slippery,
like the wet corridor
left muddy after Mumbai rains

Cut,
like a pineapple slice
a jagged and juicy end

Quiet,
like crying in the shower
stifled drops and cold memories

Sexy,
like cigarettes in red lips
a smoke and mirrors magic trick

Piercing,
like 5-inch stilettos
passing outside my office door

Modest,
like my shy hairline
almost in line with my modesty

Stacked,
like a tube of Pringles
crumbling with wafer thin charms

Bitchy,
like a sharp wit
wrapped in a Abhinay Deo reel

Cruel,
like being loved
and not being lusted for

Divine,
like a slice of warm apple pie
a triangle of kindness

Pickled,
like my thoughts of you
Staple like kimchi, yet a side

I am an Idiot

And let this post record this for posterity. And let Google crawl it and save it in its servers for all times to come. For there will come a day, when I will have no one but me to blame for this pathetic existence of mine.

Am I a Joke?

Am I a joke?
Not a joker
Not even a man
Just the means to an end.

Am I a lie?
Not imagination
Not even a dream
Just a board for darts.

Am I required?
Not wanted
Not even desired
Just rusting spares.

Am I a life?
Not words
Not even a shadow
Just not dead as yet.