Noctis Verses

“You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write.” ― Saul Bellow


Let’s write

(Not Relevant)

This is for two people who’ve become close, like family (dare I say) to me in a rather short span of time – both of them became the strangers I would look for in a crowd.

“We have formed a sick little friendship over the past year”

― Dee Remy, There Once Was A Boy

While this doesn’t sum it up – what it does is provide the essence of what they are to me. For, I never expected to chance upon humans like them, even though I am a non-believer these two could make me believe in a god. I am grateful for them if anything.





March 28, 2017

Dear Diary, 
It’s for the misunderstanding I kindled over a week – an apology to a dear friend, one I consider one of the best one’s I have ever had


“It’s dreadful what little things lead people to misunderstand each other.”
― L.M. Montgomery, Emily’s Quest

Apologies dear one. I misunderstood you, I’d have missed you terribly; which I must say is an understatement. In this strange city, with unfamiliar faces – you’re one of those I search for when I am lost in a crowd, you’d be like – home. 

I cried, wept at the thought of loosing you, yet that seemed the best choice in my misunderstandings, you seemed happy – that was worth more to me, your smile; that’d lit up the room, something on the lines of fireflies lighting up a moonless night.

Friends did tell me I was being an – “ass” letting go of someone I though was like a best friend, for a petty reason like them being in a relationship and me thinking I was a gooseberry to their party. Oh, how stupid I was.

Thank you, love for the call last night – to tell me I was being a stuck up ass because of my misunderstandings, thinking that fading away would make everyone happy because one unhappy person is better than two, in those flickering moments I forgot even you’d be unhappy; so “I cross my heart, and I hope to die” my heartfelt apologies.

“For you, a thousand times over”
― Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner

Thank you, thank you, thank you

Love always,

Graveyard Heist

Like the glittering midnight stars
Upon a midsummer grave
— lay the dead man’s gold
It shined
In an afterglow
Of mellow sadness
And happening thirst
Lust and love
With the treasure chest
It was the highlight
Of the graveyard heist

Heartless Heartbreak

How’d you explain a heartbreak without a heart?

With a broken glass chandelier serenade, or perhaps wine glass without any wine to pour. It was there, on the bedside table – a photo of the mister with the minstrel, collar with the pet.

 In the last few years, the denim had faded to a light grey and my heart had grown accustomed to midnight music, serenade about a lust soaked in forbidden ideations; now under the moon of the midsummer noon – I’ll say this once, not all heartbreaks have a heart. 

Now, as the church bells ring at midnight he sleeps with his minstrel and I with a heart and my sanity.  

Reverse dreams

It’s been a while it’d seem since I last stood before the mirror with tear stained cheeks and puffed up eyes

Ice cream doesn’t cut it anymore, there’s this longing for something – I can’t say what but this something; you know when on some nights with the lights dimmed, we sit by the window side watching shadows passing by and lost in thoughts counting and recounting what went wrong?

One thing I realized was that holding onto to memories will only lead to pain, but then letting go, it feels like a heart that’s broken – no, rather smashed into a million tiny carcasses; which now lay waste among the million faces I pass by everyday in this city I now call my own

Let me tell you something – my chemist thinks I am a drug addict with the amount of injections I have been purchasing lately, but then I wish I’d use them for heroin and not for drawing out blood to lower the BP or to inject alcohol into my bloodstream to make it lukewarm. But then smoking like a chimney isn’t really helping my case either – I am being crippled rather subtly but there’s no regret; just a silver lining to be honest – a realization that death would come sooner.

Ah death! I never made it as a human. And acting like one is hard, takes a lot to hold it all, seems like a horde of needles are being pierced into the fold of my skin every second with electricity being passed every now and then for kicks, too see how’d I twitch to the sweet essence of numbness.

They don’t realize – I have thing inside of me I need to kill

But that tear stained reflection did convince me of something – I was having a better time asleep, dreaming. And that is if nothing rather sad – it’d seem like reverse night, only I seemed to wake up in a nightmare.

I am going to go back to sleep, and wake up to another nightmare in this city I’ve come to call home – end soon.




Sudden sadness

How does one feel sad ever so suddenly? It’s this moment where you just feel like – am I even needed? Some nights are just spent alone, you want company but this nag hits you – people lead lives and you shouldn’t disturb them; so what does one do? Yes, sit alone in their sorrow.

Sitting in this constant sadness, we start waiting for when will the flowers bloom in the frost covered ground. We realize probably never, maybe fleeting few across the landscape but what is it worth? Human connections? We are alone, crawling towards death every day. Oh, how sweet would it taste – those full lips, those curves on our hands; an embrace with death – spicy and rather interesting it sounds!

Sorrow is rather frighteningly funny, while we are sad – despaired, we seem to laugh on ourselves, don’t know if that’s good, or if it’s bad – but it’s scary.

This aside, unhappy isn’t sad, sad is sad. It was just one of those nights – alone, lonely and sad.    



I have come to understand the facts that how much people, to say – friends are worth or rather valued by me in my sad existence.

Having shifted bases to a new city, it’s wonderful. But, it’d seem ‘friends’ have come to be. In my new city I associate with a handful and call less than 5 – ‘FRIENDS’. But obvious it has been less than 3 months; maybe I could be rushing things a bit?

This rush, this hurry; it stems from the fact that people aren’t really who they project themselves to be. From the people in my class it would be fair to say I care for about 5 of them, would call 3 my so called apparent friends.

“Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart” ― Eleanor Roosevelt

I do hope these numbered people leave this footprint; honestly I do.

I realized, I have come to categorize people into 4 categories –

  1. Acquaintance
  2. People I care about
  3. People I’d kill for
  4. Family

That said, hope I’d find some people who are like family – other than those already there


He liked the saltiness of the breeze besides the ocean – dry. The sharpness made it more appealing.

When his heart was broken – which was rather often, he tumbled down to the beach with his bottle of gin and dried sardines.  Little did he know it was about the change. So, what was he to do when she broke his heart in two at the spot by the sea – his childhood favorite.

The boy lost 3 things that day –
His faith in love, his love for the sea and the child in him.

He now shuddered into the bar at noon, spew out at 10 – sunken eyes and dolled glands. The cheerful boy now had turned sour as the spoiled milk. He now loved none, just lusted for revenge. He ravaged a whorehouse a day, with numbers fucked – piling mile high. He hated the ocean, its sharp saltiness with a vengeance; and trashed the spot white many a day.

He didn’t realize it not just a trade off, but a canopy. As his hate and blue cooled down over the years he realized, it wasn’t him all along. He realized love was love. One sides or two or three or poly, it romance – love, it returned to him on his last day, all while he fucked the last whore in the brothel lane. He suddenly urged to see the ocean, feel the sharp salt against the sunken cheeks; he followed his feet to the trashed spot. The child appeared along the horizon – fishing and playing the lute and eyes welled up too see his hear stop while the ocean his last.

A thing called ‘Destiny’

The moon waned, and the stars gazed at me from across the blue bay.

Astounded? No. Mesmerized, and rather surprised to find solace on the beach at a time after the clock hit midnight.

The cheap Corona tasted heavenly, feet sunken ankle deep into the minute grains, and I star gazed with my head held high.

Wasn’t I just a speck in this universe so giant? Maybe. Quasars light years away seem to beckon me with a finger, bony.

Let me hop onto to this train of fate. And ride to this thing called destiny, and hope it treats me well.

So long, peeps!   

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