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The Kiss of Death

Let seclusion be my savior

And loss be the liberator

Then these clutches of fate are indescribable

Because all I hold is the spirit of a voyager


This passage is slender

My strength controls a strange vigor

The wheel of curiosity drives genuinely

As this road leads nowhere


I often get lost through courses

Fumbling through a string of strangers

Recognition causes wounds of reality to bleed

After all, the sting of pain is such a pleasure


The other day, finality made me rise from slumber

And bitterness of demise transformed itself into the seducer

As death put her kiss on me

I found it to be sweet and tender

My Last Night’s Foe

My ungodliness brought me to a wonder

Was it a child’s innocence?

Or the onslaught of plunder

A moment’s thought, then a lost sight


The other day, the haunting came back

It was little red riding hood surrounded by the pack

I shook off the feeling; and the music broke through

Turned back to the rhythm; something I no more knew


Conversation followed; tinkering flowed

I looked for a companion on the dance floor

There was a hand; it told me to let go

And I found myself waltzing with my last night’s foe


O my nightmare! You tell me so

Was it reality or just a dream to let go

The music broke through, surrounding mist grew

It parted silently, leaving me yet again sans clue


Now it was juggler’s turn to put on a show

Beings hustled, they too wanting to let go

I saw in glassy eyes; I smelt in subdued murmurs

They were also daunted by my last night’s foe


There was laughter and music continued

The juggler himself haunted, put on a good show

Pennies for smiles; fortunes for laughter

Frozen hearts; loud applause; the house rocked to and fro


The show came to an end; yet nobody knew

Who it was playing behind the clown’s crew

I traced the strings of the ring master’s lyre

And came to look into eyes of my last night’s foe


You bring pleasure; lest naught settles the pain

I don’t understand the rules of this game

Pray! Make me known to this mystery

It is haunting me beyond any death’s bellow


I saw its eyes change colors by dozen

Yet I couldn’t decide, it was beauty

Or a savage lost in the brazen

Yet I waited for an answer to come through


Pleasure is a stage; pain is the play

Relief is ending; suffering is zenith’s bray

Worry thou naught: O thinker!

For the likes of you; my bite lies astray


You seek answers; the blood continues its flow

You fall in pattern; ice descends in these veins so blue

I am here and I will wait

Till the day you cease tries, to catch the day


I will return to give you taste of frost’s blood

Then you will laugh, unknown to joy’s bud

To cast off, you will pick a Stream of Life to pursue

And will become someone’s last night foe


Pray creature of last night

Are you a friend, or an ominous fright?

Why letting me in on secrets of such plight

Go on, and resume your journey past the skies


Though unstoppable, my quest and deft

Yet the vault, I build is not for mine to thrive

I build for masters from another world

Yet I suffer for myself, an unquenchable theft


I can seduce: I can lure

But the flesh lost its meaning one bloody night

Blood is what, now I collect; sensation is such I prune

I play with colors, yet I stand a bland sight


I inflict wounds by a measure

Then I give pain and I give pleasure

The being plays; whilst I collect

Love, laughter and joy’s treasure


There is a market and there are bazzars

Having authority beyond those of Tsars

One part joy; nine parts lust

One pint luck; nine pints rust


This is what they long

My commodity, makes them feel, loved and belonged

Enslaved by their own worldly mires

These poor beings walk happily, into siren’s pyres


Pray Creature! So strange, so true

Why to unfold a ruse so lewd

Then ‘tis the last, I heard from my parting last night’s foe

Because once, I too, was a creature of love like you

Meeting Death

Till day, I have wondered, how it feels to be touched by the caress of death. I often tried to recall mine, but never succeeded. And then it came to me, on tiptoes, cascading me in tiny ripples of unbreakable crescendo.


It was then the music broke through…

Frankenstein’s Bride

Frankenstein died, so did his hideous creature that he created subject to his godly lust. It continued to remain a mystery how the laboratory caught fire for centuries to come, and gave amiable food for thought to probing brains and intellectual discussions. Nobody knew, what happened actually that night, except for one person…Frankenstein’s Bride!


That is me!


I hated that ominous creature, whose wish brought me to life, since the day I was made. Death had become a contented nest for me as I had come to terms with the peaceful sleep, away from the suburbs of life, waiting for The Day. Yet it was because of his hideous yearning that crooked it into a ghastly womb. I loathed the creature from the day I set eyes upon it. I saw the flicker of longing and want in those beady eyes, defeating the swamp of the most deadly marshes, and I couldn’t hate him more. Frankenstein was no exception. He never fathomed the plight of the-likes-of-us and continued to bask in the glory of creating yet another wretched creature, which was to be marred by its own element for the life to come.


But, life is strange and stranger is the fact that glimpses in the past revoke them in reminiscence, time and again. Adam’s desire brought Eve, and then ….


From the day, I stepped down the steps of my birth coven; I had it resolved in my heart to set the score with the alliance that gave birth to me, robbing me off my nest. There should be no place for unstoppable naiveté’. For a minuscule second, I pitied the monster, but then I wondered at the selfishness that made him request my being, yet knowing the plight of his own. Had he been earnest, he would never have set a demand for the likes of his to be created again. They had to pay, this I decided.


I set fire to the laboratory and the coven that had given birth to two unfathomable creatures, one was to die; the other to survive. It was past midnight, when the fire thickened and engulfed the laboratory in its flames while the creator and one of his creations swarmed inside. Strange are the ways of this world. A maker burned inside, reducing to ashes whilst its construction stood by. I smelt the burning flesh and I heard the despondent cries, yet I stood; to watch, to listen.


When my deed was done, I left for the city.