Noctis Verses

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


“I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim, and now I am overwhelmed by this decent and good feeling.”

– Frida Kahlo


Depressed (!)

“The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.”

― David Foster Wallace


Under the usual banter –
On one seemed to notice,
The swollen eyes and the smeared mascara
Smudge marks on the screen

The cheerful girl next door,
One with the hoodies and the cute shirts
Had a battlefield on her arms
Slashes and injection pores

All this was left unsaid
With no notices or appeals
Smirks and drooping grins
Way was weaved

(I was just under,
Pills and overdosed)

Nourish (?)

“Why do people have to be this lonely? What’s the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?”

― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

Lusted quiver

It had been many nights hence,
I’d been living –
Under the dim lit street lamps
Sleeping in a cardboard box
Sniffing – smell is as good as meal (?)
Being lost and now homeless
Running away –
It now seemed away not worth this
(Was it though?)

It’s been after years,
Years, and years of abuse
Of sexual profanity
By this person;
Apparently, supposed to shelter me –
Help me out – yet I ran
Was I right?
(It’s normal, I suppose – not)

Without anyone looking out anymore –
For lust or worse
This concrete my grave –
A box my coffin
(Dead drama?)
That’s at least better than being covered – white
Liquid not cloth
In frost not fingered touch

Die in hope – not a lusted quiver


Love (?)

“When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.”
― Arrigo Boito


It’d been some time;
Since – it has been the end of me

They lay in the back of my dresser drawer –

Pills in the box of mint
Covered in sweat and blood with specks of coke

But – old habits die
Even if the hurt we see is not ours,
It’s an enslavement of sorts


With a moon-bow on the backdrop
Under the star lit sky
Beneath the Acklemore tree,
Waiting for my beloved

As the dawn approaches,
Took my leave,
Trotted down the hill,

Far, far away.

As I walk this path;
In the shadows of tomorrow.

Reached a set of crossroads,

I stand – stare

Filling my wanderlust,
Or going home (?)

Run of conclusions,
Conclusively –
Filled my wanderlust

Loyal (?)

“I used to advertise my loyalty and I don’t believe there is a single person I loved that I didn’t eventually betray.”

― Albert Camus, The Fall

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