self/ in slashes/

nostalgia sticks to the roof of my mouth

my tongue excitedly flaps around chapped lips

sounds of whirring printers and cackling staplers

ring in my ears, i tap my fingers on the desk-

half-chewed fingernails on moth-eaten wood,

unhinged tubelights flicker above

and i wander off to dusty memories

of when i was made of milk-toothed youth

and phosphorus, coiled like a fetus in

porcelain bathtubs filled to the brim

with lukewarm water.

/

stuffy car rides in summers/ sticky fingers/

made of saccharine and/ honey flavoured toffees/

the sun glinted/ through hardened glass windows/

leather seats/ that burned their souls/

plastic waterbottles/ that sang in their watery voices/

air conditioners/ spewed out icy air/

bryan adams/ bled out of the broken radio/

beads of sweat/ crawled through father’s eyebrows/

i wiped my forehead/ with the back of my hand/

moved my tongue gently/ across the rough surface/

of sharp-edged rock candies/ bobbed my head to soft rock/

and it sat there/ hidden beneath seat covers/

packed under bottlenecks/ muffled by lip-syncing lips/

heartbreak/ fleeting childhood/

/

i swiftly move my fingers through reams of paper,

licking the pale fingertips that taste like starch and death.

my mouth dry like sawdust.

i light up a cigarette,

melancholy madness rises up with heavy,

tobacco-laden smoke.

she enters my ribs.

armed with the ghosts of my childhood,

sweeping gently my diaphgram,

sweet death.

she gnaws at my liver, my right lung,

breaks it into swallowable cubes-

death is a woman, always.

/

the air was thick/ with jealousy/

yellow coloured/ school buses/

staggering up slowly to the hills/ to remote cottages/

on overpriced school trips/

the seats were torn at the edges/ they spat out yellow foam/

overweight children/ shuffled out of the metal doors/

stretching their arms/ plastic wrappers crunched under their feet/

we slept in warm camps/ in groups of four/

there was something sad/ about the way she had smiled/

i had loved her then/

the chemical taste of sandwiches/ burned through the air/

warm tomatoes and soggy bread/ mixed with amylase/

naked bodies floated around/ in chlorine-rich pools/

i wanted to drown/

and once again/

beneath piles of woolen clothes/

masked under the smell of tomatoes and chlorine/

there it was/ heartbreak/

i cried myself to sleep/ that night/

no one left school trips/ unscathed/

/

the night is young,

i make my way slowly to the subway,

soft fog looks pretty under

purple neon city lights.

i rub my palms together-

it’s cold outside.

it’s cold inside.

i rub i rub i

rub.

/

sickly smell of soft drinks/ swept through the air/

happy birthday/ the banner said in a happy font/

he blew the striped candles/ drops of saliva/

stuck to the frosting/ it was vanilla/

his mother/ plucked out the candles/

remnants of cake clung themselves/ to the wax/

i would lick them off/ later/

the walls faded/ to a pale yellow/

chairs screeched/ afraid of being dragged around/

i wore a checkered shirt/ red and blue/

wiped my wet hands/ on the soft fabric/

we were served/ cold noodles and warm cake/

i had gulped down the carbohydrates/ shamelessly/

fat thighs burned/ filled to the brim with lactic acid/

the air was moist/ something loomed over us/

mingling with the humidity/ something hideous/

/

i switch on the lights.

the room glows up in yellow illumination,

i wipe my moist eyes with the back of my sleeve-

i have left something behind,

and replaced it with the grief

of unborn memories.

and once again

i sleep through dimesions

and wake up in vibrant thoughts-

i had always hated the dark.

and once again i was floating

through/ faint yellow birthday-walls/

red wax candles/ i loved to lick/

through yellow school buses/ with the pain peeling off of them/

through old pages/ of worn out leather diaries/

through muddy playgrounds/ in monsoons/

falling off bicycles/ on hard concrete roads/

through broken toes/ that bled so crimson/

through cracked lips/ and torn tongues/

the lips had bled/ and i had sucked on them/

i had loved the sicksweet taste/ that reminded me of home/

and yes/

this is home/ this is home/ this is

home/