After every moment,
there's a part of life erased,
permanently tethered to
a point in time and space.
Every second that we've lived,
is one in which we died;
memories of prior lives,
we've buried deep inside.
Piece by piece, the childhood self
is glacially replaced.
Day by day, the mirror will
reveal a stranger’s face.
Why should we be fearful of
our final, fleeting breaths?
In our lifetime, we have died
a million little deaths.
About the Creator
Siddharth
I write like someone who’s eavesdropped on too many conversations in public transport and felt too many feelings on rooftops.
Balance is a myth
“I’m at this point in life where I don’t want to be mediocre anymore,” my friend whispered — partly drunk, partly self-aware, slurping a cocktail I impulsively concocted in a coffee mug (a bit of genius and jugaad) using leftover vodka and a half-empty bottle of Mazza, a mango beverage forgotten in the fridge. We were sitting on a mattress in my living room, surrounded by the cluttered remains of another overcooked weekday: half-read books, open laptops on low battery and Zepto paper bags that had definitely outlived the groceries it once delivered. But, in that moment of desperate inspiration and existential dread, the drink was surprisingly exquisite. Sweet, sharp and stupidly profound. Maybe the steel bombilla straw or the IKEA coffee mug had something to do with it. Maybe it was just one of those accidental alignments — like a holiday falling just before a weekend, or catching the smell of someone making Maggi in hostel.
By Siddharth 9 months ago in Motivation
Spiders
I have a spider in my shower. I have taken a shower in there three times despite this knowledge and it haunts me between each drop of water, each brush against the wall or showerhead. I do not know where it lurks. I saw it once and since then it has maintained a steady hidden location, to which my eyes only half-heartedly search.
By Logan Stanislaw7 days ago in Poets
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