PUCHUKU DIARIES

VATICINATION The study block haunts me The backlogs taunt me Yet I stay still as nothing enters my brain I am sure I will fail The exams near Yet I feel no fear As if my subconscious has accepted my ultimate academic demise A pathetic failure, my mind mocks A prophecy it vaticinates The prophecy of my exam results I look at the material in vain Everything goes above my head I realize with a sigh That I will be a self fulfilling prophecy.

CONFESSION OF A NUTCASE Oh, Tasty Nuts, You are very tasty and munchy, My top choice for chatpataa stuff since I could chew. But my mind in the gutter ruined your pious name forever, Turning it into a euphemism. Forgive me, OH THE RULER OF SNACKS, For I have sinned.

THE BANE OF YOUR HAPPINESS I roam the world, No nationality or ethnicity, No pronoun or labels, None of my own. But I do take on the identities of the lives I infiltrate, Without them realizing, Until it's too late. I am as old as the human mind, As young as an abused child’s trauma, Yet I am called an excuse or just a figment of overt imagination. Millennials call me a pseudo phenomenon their kids make up, Not realizing the horrors I inflicted upon their fathers, The Boomers. When people jeer at me and tell themselves that I do not exist, That is when I am the happiest. And mind you, I don’t come alone. I bring my peers to wreak havoc upon any lives. No barriers, no specific types. I am in everyone—from children to senile, The adolescents to middle-aged. I am the embodiment of pain and suffering, The emotional agony. I make kids lose their childhood. I make teenagers scream in pain and slit their wrists. I make the most things you love mundane forever beyond repair. I destroy ever...

I HAVE SINNED I have sinned for I joined a group of bad people I have sinned for I did not realize it until too late I have sinned for I overlooked the number of people they hurt I have sinned for I am still with them I have sinned for I am too much of a coward to detach myself I have sinned for I have been a people pleaser I have sinned for I did not put them in their place I have sinned for I did not avenge those they humiliated I have sinned for I do not know what pulled them to me I have sinned for I do not if I am them I have sinned for I am one of the bad people I have sinned for I find no other explanation

THE ENABLER She was screaming in agony Cries of harsh symphony He handed her a razor Skin cut through like laser Blood glistening in the light A truly terrific sight This became a habit An obsession commit Scars zigzag in white lines Across her arms like vines Blood flow commanded by the sailor The self harm enabler

SIMPING I Simping from afar, with stolen glances and not-so-discreet smiles. Simping nearby, with flirty talks and poorly hidden fluster. Simping in reels, with funny memes. Simping in voice notes, with carefree melodies. The Simper gone too far, and the Simpee—oblivious as hell. SIMPING II The Simper finally decides to act, The Simpee’s mixed signals driving their overthinking into overdrive. The Simper confesses gracefully, Trying to have some semblance of dignity left. The Simpee rejects the Simper, Albeit very gently. Friendship strengthens surprisingly, The Simper finally moves on. But the What Ifs linger in the shadows, What if the Simpee had also been a Simper?

INCONSPICUOUS PRISON 18 was to be the release Caged but seemed breakable Inevitable and inconspicuous The miraging illusion that is freedom The prison comes in all forms Worse than the devil Family that taunts Mind that haunts Bigotry that hurt Culture that mocks Poverty that jaunts Different forms of the same prison Inconspicuous yet all destroying Life: the wolf in sheep’s clothing 18 was to be the release The deliberate delusion Death, the only freedom

Mother dear, WHAT IF? I look at her, Worn and worried, Burdened with the unending cruelties of her life. Yet she goes on and on, Without ever stopping, Just a pathetic being, Numb with the perpetual stress. Physical health in shreds: Migraine, PCOD, Thyroid, Arthritis, Yet these are not her greatest foes. Pathetic pity for her life’s greatest cruelty was not inevitable, Not bestowed upon her by the family she was born to. Wonderful people if not for their passivity and cowardice, Passivity and cowardice—her inherent heredity. It was the monster she married, And the monster she birthed. I did not inherit her humanity; I inherited only her husband’s monstrosity. He broke her bit by bit with his gaslighting and abuse, Shattered me with his booming voice and hits. My pain turned into this vindictive rage That I projected upon her, For there was no outlet. I love her with all my heart, Yet I resent her for not saving me: A passive audience to the perpetual trauma that broke me Until I was j...

MOCK ELEGY For a long time, to kill, he was mine. One day I wake up and find he is dead— I see red. It was not fair, I felt like I couldn’t breathe air. He filled my life with torture, When he was meant to nurture. I was supposed to grieve, But all I felt was relief And a vindictive rage That was beyond my age. As a human, he was an abhorrent abomination, An abysmal inspiration. To kill him was supposed to be my salvation, And yet to waste went my determination. My vengeance will never be fulfilled, My trauma forever chilled. People unaware of my hate Told me his eulogy was my fate. So here I write this mock elegy To add to my anthology.

LORE OF CUTS I slit my wrists, Blood drips, More scars to hide.

FYE The weather was cozy in Montesay town. The arrival of spring came with a warm and comforting air, which smelled of joy, contentment and happiness. Ironically, Elijah Kenner never felt so hopeless, the optimistic and bright seventeen year old soul was now wandering in darkness vulnerable; and on the verge of giving up. Sitting near the graveyards of his family, he went through the names of the people who passed away belonging to the Kenner family which was one of the founding families of Montesay Town. A chuckle left his mouth when he came across the bold words engraved on a grave: ELIJAH KENNER 1908 – 2007 A BELOVED HUSBAND, FATHER, GRANDPA AND A GREAT GRANDFATHER. A SOUL TO BE REMEMBERED. WE WILL MISS YOU. His parents had named him after his great grandfather. The way his parents admired and talked about Elijah Sr. was heartwarming. Elijah Sr. had died when Elijah Jr. was a four year old kid. He remembered the loving old man’s wrinkled face, his kind smile, the mischievous and chi...

BIRTH OF A MONSTER A monster birthed me. The human I call my father, is a monster in disguise. It took me time to realize that, it was too late and there was no escape. Years of torture, and now I snap constantly. No one helped me, but the world helped him in carrying out his atrocities. All that anger, resentment boils constantly, until my mom feels that my rage makes me the most terrifying monster apart from my father. Vengeance is the only thing on my mind. To hurt the other person or to hurt myself are the only options I have. I escape to fantasies in a pathetic effort to protect myself. The fantasies were colorful and beautiful when I was young. But now my greatest fantasies are of killing the monster and his accomplices, and then killing myself. I have lost my sympathy and empathy, I cannot feel anything apart from rage and pain. Instances of death do not make me cry, others’ pain does not make me flinch. I revel in hurting the monster and his accomplices with the most cruel word...

THE YEARNING   The lone girl wanders in the darkness that is her life. Gone are the feelings of fear and despair she felt long back, all she is left with is the perpetual numbness and nightmarish indifference that haunts her for what feels like eternity. All her dreams, and hopes for a future crushed, all her desires and wishes incinerated, any semblance of happiness or peace destroyed, she is only left with one thing: a yearning. A yearning so tempting, so difficult to resist, the yearning for everything to end all at once. But it was not always like this, there was a time she was full of joy. The times when she was a young bud with aspirations to bloom into a graceful flower. The times she was unaware of the dark truths the abhorrent world hid behind the façade of the contender of utopia. The times she did not recognize the abominations who surrounded her, disguised under the veneer of good humans. But the truth always gets out, and when it did, it was ugly and agonizing. The wor...

Blood Red Niagara The water falls greater than Niagara But it is not pristine It is blood red Filled with debris of pain and shame Thick with the tears and screams Never to be heard Pristine before, the blood red was deliberate Inflicted with an old rusty blade Alone, deep in a forest of barren trees Vultures circling her for her blood Taunting her to make it bleed again and again Until the screams die and the tears dry Yet it is blood red The water falls greater than Niagara Yet it will never be pristine. Tainted red for eternity.