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beingcathartique

September 28, 2016. September 28, 2016. Shadows are crippling around me like they want to breath against me. They are reaching out to my lifeless shell that walks among the soulful ones, as if they want to make it their new home. Touched by many yet untouched, roaming around like a storm about to erupt. It wants to erupt, yet is only able to shed a tear that drops down the cheek and evaporates like it never existed. As I want to be able to laugh at your face and stand like a stone when you depart. The id...

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September 28, 2016. September 28, 2016. Shadows are crippling around me like they want to breath against me. They are reaching out to my lifeless shell that walks among the soulful ones, as if they want to make it their new home. Touched by many yet untouched, roaming around like a storm about to erupt. It wants to erupt, yet is only able to shed a tear that drops down the cheek and evaporates like it never existed. As I want to be able to laugh at your face and stand like a stone when you depart. The id...
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beingcathartique | beingcathartique.wordpress.com Reviews

https://beingcathartique.wordpress.com

September 28, 2016. September 28, 2016. Shadows are crippling around me like they want to breath against me. They are reaching out to my lifeless shell that walks among the soulful ones, as if they want to make it their new home. Touched by many yet untouched, roaming around like a storm about to erupt. It wants to erupt, yet is only able to shed a tear that drops down the cheek and evaporates like it never existed. As I want to be able to laugh at your face and stand like a stone when you depart. The id...

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beingcathartique.wordpress.com beingcathartique.wordpress.com
1

And where do I go? – beingcathartique

https://beingcathartique.wordpress.com/2016/05/19/and-where-do-i-go

May 19, 2016. May 19, 2016. And where do I go? I die between words I struggle to remember. I die between the sweet braids neatly tucked behind my ear and I die in the mad chaos of my open hair. I die between people whom I didn’t know and I die between people I’ve always wanted to know. I die between arms I know and I die on fingertips that flip pages of a book in a stranger’s lap. I die between the lines that are supposed to be the last. I die in between. I think I only lived thinking I’ve died. I think ...

2

Crippled Heart – beingcathartique

https://beingcathartique.wordpress.com/2016/09/28/crippled-heart

September 28, 2016. September 28, 2016. Shadows are crippling around me like they want to breath against me. They are reaching out to my lifeless shell that walks among the soulful ones, as if they want to make it their new home. Touched by many yet untouched, roaming around like a storm about to erupt. It wants to erupt, yet is only able to shed a tear that drops down the cheek and evaporates like it never existed. As I want to be able to laugh at your face and stand like a stone when you depart.

3

Time.. – beingcathartique

https://beingcathartique.wordpress.com/2016/05/19/time

May 19, 2016. May 19, 2016. Most of the time, you don’t know what is it that wears you off. I call it time, my friend. Time which has never existed. Time which has been shaped into nine and twelve and hung on walls as clocks. Time which has been divided into morning, afternoon, evening and night and then into seasons and years. Time which peels off then a minute of you. Time where you travel. Time an ocean of undivided continuity. Which will later fly,. Fly away soon, my friend ). We divide to see,.

4

Little Mirage – beingcathartique

https://beingcathartique.wordpress.com/2016/05/19/little-mirage

May 19, 2016. May 19, 2016. Little Mirage sat on cold shores with dusty winds. Cold shores and dusty winds she sat with a short haired girl. Brown in her untidy yellow strands,. Their entanglement falling over her dirty white face. The girl wore a white dress reaching upto her neck. Little Mirage and the girl in the dirty white dress broke down stones into two. They broke down stones with small gaps and broke stones with stones. The broke the smaller stones into three and four. When they walked on the sh...

5

Mirage has no song – beingcathartique

https://beingcathartique.wordpress.com/2016/05/19/mirage-has-no-song

May 19, 2016. May 19, 2016. Mirage has no song. Mirage told me that everybody wrote about everybody. That everybody wrote about names. Mirage told me she wasn’t a name. She told me she was only there when you looked. When I was little, I had seen Mirage. But I never played with strangers so I never gave her the hat I gave my sister. But I had been looking at the mirror where I had caught her swift flight. The mirror was stuck to the old cupboard I was gifted on my birthday. Sometimes Mirage hushed me bec...

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urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com

February | 2015 | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2015/02

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. The Stitcher and The Storyteller (A perpetually incomplete lust). February 19, 2015. February 19, 2015. February 12, 2015. She was a freak who wanted the world in a straight line. He was a pervert who erected every object at a right angle. She was a freak who couldn’t decide anything. He was a pervert who skewed morality till it resembled a childhood lost. They were wanderers of the world and of their bodies and their minds and their bookshelves and their suitcases and their d...

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Rajeev Vaishnav | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/author/rajeevroark

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. June 4, 2016. June 4, 2016. The cloud went kamikaze somewhere up there,. She did not, down below, in here. A sheet of river, cut in millions, dropped,. The facade on her well-honed cheeks did not. The paint peeled off the walled like scabs,. Once pinned to its sodden stretch, she could not. The sky shed all it had within the hour and heaved,. She tried holding back from doing so, but could not. A bright deep shade of fairy orange and cadmium skin,. Then the hooks dig in, a nic...

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Invitation. | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2015/08/10/invitation

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. August 10, 2015. August 10, 2015. Coffee cups, whiskey pegs, old books,. Your skin your breasts and the ridge of the ribs. Dear girl, from past, recent and distant. Stop waiting,love, you have no fear. The night has passed, the day aged to perfection. The amber evening comes slow and long. It knows you want soft touch on stiff flesh. Let it, let it, on you, around, inside you. Open your bronzed thighs and fill the world. With the aroma of your hesitant lust and want. You are c...

urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com

July | 2015 | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2015/07

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. July 23, 2015. July 23, 2015. She told me once she went to this slum and the children there all elbowed each other to sit in her lap as she took selfies with all of them. A patient slew of photographs with brightened faces. I always loved hearing her. When I kissed her navel, her stories reverberated in her body and she became the woman who served and fed me stories after stories. I always wondered about the life she had when I was not by her side. Was it crowded? 8221; I said.

urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com

Infrequent | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2015/06/25/infrequent

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. June 25, 2015. June 25, 2015. I see you now and I cannot write. I see no imperfections in you anymore. There are no flaws. You are collarbones and courtesies. You are navel and knowledge. You’ve stopped wrapping your fingers around the cups of coffee. You look at the clocks. You don’t look at the bookshelves. You’re a woman out in the world. Why did we not change together? Why do our bodies not fit inside each other anymore? When did we start using answers to win over others?

urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com

Spot | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2015/07/23/spot

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. July 23, 2015. July 23, 2015. She told me once she went to this slum and the children there all elbowed each other to sit in her lap as she took selfies with all of them. A patient slew of photographs with brightened faces. I always loved hearing her. When I kissed her navel, her stories reverberated in her body and she became the woman who served and fed me stories after stories. I always wondered about the life she had when I was not by her side. Was it crowded? 8221; I said.

urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com

Swing | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2015/04/05/swing

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. April 5, 2015. Only teens who think naked bodies are a privilege or the prudes who ironically think nudity of a lover is a right to proclaim. I am neither. I don’t know what I am unless I am inside her. Half lit cigarette has no point unless they are sucked on and color the lungs. I have no point unless inside her and coloring my flesh. I don’t want that. I want her. Us. On knees. Eagle spread. Belly down. Face in hair. Cock in cunt. Tongu...8220;I feel the same.”. I tell her&...

urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com

July | 2014 | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2014/07

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. Why we will never be human. July 4, 2014. July 4, 2014. We will never be humans. We will be just social animals. We will never be humans. Because we think war is about winning. Like it is a damn game on a cardboard. And we make sons and daughters jump and kill and be butchered. And we will never be humans. Because when you are pierced with enough pieces of metal,. They’ll pin one more shiny piece on your memory to nail it down. We will never be humans. We will never be humans.

urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com

September | 2014 | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2014/09

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. September 10, 2014. September 10, 2014. At the center of every human universe,. The opposite of a black hole exists. A radiant, illuminated, pulsating existence. A woman who is all about conferences and carnality. She is the sensual realist. Sharp eyes and loose tresses. One unbuttoned window in to her flesh. One vault of star steel in her eyes. She’s the opposite of an information paradox. The antithesis of annihilation. A progenitor of prose and verse. Over a Cup of Tea.

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April | 2015 | UrbanSanyaasi

https://urbansanyaasi.wordpress.com/2015/04

Fiction, Reviews, Articles. April 5, 2015. Only teens who think naked bodies are a privilege or the prudes who ironically think nudity of a lover is a right to proclaim. I am neither. I don’t know what I am unless I am inside her. Half lit cigarette has no point unless they are sucked on and color the lungs. I have no point unless inside her and coloring my flesh. I don’t want that. I want her. Us. On knees. Eagle spread. Belly down. Face in hair. Cock in cunt. Tongu...8220;I feel the same.”. I tell her&...

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September 28, 2016. September 28, 2016. Shadows are crippling around me like they want to breath against me. They are reaching out to my lifeless shell that walks among the soulful ones, as if they want to make it their new home. Touched by many yet untouched, roaming around like a storm about to erupt. It wants to erupt, yet is only able to shed a tear that drops down the cheek and evaporates like it never existed. As I want to be able to laugh at your face and stand like a stone when you depart. The id...

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