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Kavya Chandra
1,080 followers -
Human beings aren't rational; they just like the idea of it.
Human beings aren't rational; they just like the idea of it.

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The light from the lighthouse, north of where the unspeakables lived was an indication to burn the brightest torch light we had, to burn  the soft echoes of the mountains where we  lived, into the ashen ground of the deadly  lips who soiled where all the…

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Trace the lining of the wall you’ve been longingto jump past like Superman, lick the sides, the edges,  the whole texture and taste it curdle the insides of your mouth, let the gimmick of an amalgamation of a structured building heightened to please eyes,…

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"Incompatible," to the misfits, to the love not known, not embraced.

the colourlessness of mundane words swamped over abruptly to rupture souls and vindictive scars which scream occasionally to the terrible abruptness of the love which lives through a hiatus, and it isn't fair,

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Narcotics tingle my insides as the cheap liquor combines with the smoke of tomorrow; I’m on the roof, and the picture perfect paralysis of the ignition of life seems to combust with each firework on New Year’s eve. I am trying to lift up the equanimity of…

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Plucking flower petals at the expense of the moonlight which cascades over shadows and dingy sights, I saw a girl who spoke too loud of her heart and soul, and another one who ran through my neighbour’s corridor, and it was strange, for my heart beat…

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A case of the epilepsy causes the brain to loose consciousness and convulse capriciously, without much sense, and bereft the world of the person’s ability to affect those around him, and those about; but the truth is, in those few moments of disarray…

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It has been three days, four hours,  76 seconds and 12 memorial moments since I have last written a piece (a rhyme, rather) which tells of anything that might just be worth a read, and my pocket dictionary  is weary and torn at the edges of its  recurring…

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Over the commotion of touches and empty  scotch graveyards which smell of live bodies pressing together with tulips and marigolds, both of which are a darker white (with a subtle tint of ocher), I saw a grumpy goddess  with her hair shining like stars and…

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As the rain stutters rhythms and melodies without announcing the words which follow, for only I can fill them in, it feels terribly, blindingly confusing to fall over the pavement with drunk, longing eyes and disgorging in front of my mother who looks at…

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Hotel bedrooms remind me of dirty white lies I was fed with at the hospital, by the dirty, dark and twisty doctors; they think they’re  unblemished with their sordid greed to cut my mind apart. I’d convulse at their rotten demons, who reach out their arms…
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