Monthly Archives: June 2017

Morning Routine

It’s like some sort of routine
How you walk out of bed
Half asleep
Look in the mirror
And still find the consciousness
To hate yourself.

How while brushing your teeth
You see the two yellow canines
Biting into your confidence
You see one tooth over another
And curse it
Like a mother trying to resolve a fight
Between her children
But your teeth can never be your children
They’re too imperfect

How you slather on two black lines
Over your eyes
Hoping that the light in them dies
And when they’re slightly
Not aligned
You erase them again
And again
Till you get it right
But you never get it right
Your eyes are way too small

How you step in front of the full mirror
And analyze your stretch marks
The curves in those lines
Offend you
And threaten you
They remind you of the cupcake
You ate last week
The one with five sprinkles
Four of which you didn’t deserve.

How you look further down
At the way your legs stick together
And refuse to come apart
Unless you stretch them
You then stand there
And jump up and down
Hoping that maybe in a minute
They’ll be disjointed
And free
Like a bird learning to fly
After its mother leaves
But you could never fly
Your legs are too damn heavy.

How you try to get dressed
Based on the way your stomach looks
In that top
Or how tall you look
In those pants
So you try on everything in your closet
And spend so much time looking through it
That you subconsciously
Lock yourself in it.

How you finally decide to walk out
After applying some more fairness cream
And some final checks in the mirror
To see whether you’ve hidden
Your true reflection
Well enough.

As you walk out
You imagine the same morning
Without a mirror
How instead of depending on it
For reflecting your flaws
You could be it
To shine light on your beauty
The word beauty now echoes
Through your mind
You laugh a little openly
And continue walking

Paper Doll

This world has made me a paper doll
Easy to hold
Easy to look at
Easy to burn.

I’ve been cut out of the same paper
Used to make my 3.5 billion counterparts
We’re all cut in the same shape:
We have our heads
But no one quite knows what’s in them
Then we have our hands
That are bent to this sort of 45 degree angle
That I think makes us look like we’re welcoming someone
Or just waiting to hold someone’s hand
Then we have the ends of our dresses
Followed by our legs
But I think that’s something the world’s gotten wrong
Because God forbid we show our legs
It’s time to be crumpled.

Crumpled by those who cut us up in the first place
Those to whom we’re just pieces of paper
For them to throw their gum in
And play paper toss with later on.
Those to whom we’re begging to be ripped apart
And shredded by their machines made of ego
Those to whom our only purpose is to be scribbled on
By their pens that may not be working.

Some of us, though, are cut a bit unevenly
We have our edges and uneven sides
We’re a cut a bit out of the lines
And sometimes we’re not just plain white
But then how does the world deal with us, right?
We don’t fit into the molds
Or can’t be folded so easily
It’s quite simple, really
They approach us with their candles
With the flame that seems too cold
And we cannot run from them
Our legs would tear apart
The only way we can move is to be whisked away
By the wind’s mercy.

So we stand there
And wait
For the fire to burn through those edges
For the fire to turn white to black
For them to turn us into ash.

Shrinking Circles

We all have circles around us
Circles that are so important
That they pretty much define
Who we are.
The length of the radius
Is our reach
The circumference marks
Our boundary
And the area
Is our shadow
Our shadow that so beautifully traces our outline
And yet encompasses everything within us
And everything about us.

Ask me about my circle and I’ll tell you.
I’ll try to convince you that my radius extends
In every direction
I’ll tell you that the circumference
Only begins at the horizon
That the more you walk towards it
The farther it’ll appear.
I’ll confess to you that you no longer have to walk that far
Because, now, the boundaries are coming towards me
I will warn you to stay away from them
To run towards me
As fast as you can
Because once the boundaries hit you
You will no longer be in my circle.
I will tell you with a quiver in my voice
That my circle is shrinking.

It is shrinking
Every time I complain
That my grandfather and I have nothing in common
Because he does his sudoku in the newspaper
And I do it on my phone.
It is shrinking
Every time I laugh
When my male friend cracks a rape joke
And then regain myself enough to say
Rape isn’t funny .
It is shrinking
When I start to believe everything
But stop believing in anything.

Now look at your circles
You’ll see that they too
Are shrinking.

They are shrinking
Every time you feel guilty
For eating chicken biryani.
They are shrinking
Every time you paint your daughter’s room pink
Without asking her what she wants.
They are shrinking
Every time your stomach goes funny
When you sit next to a man with a beard.

Our circles are shrinking
Because we are trying to invade other circles
Solely because they are not congruent to ours.
They are shrinking
Because we glorify everything
But don’t have gratitude for anything.
They are shrinking
Because we no longer relate different
To diverse.

As a result our circles
Are becoming smaller and smaller
More distanced from each other.
We’ve all become tangential
Touching each other at only one point
Whether this is all mad symmetry
Or just by design
Is up to you to decide.

So stretch your hands out of your circles,
Prove that you are more than your radius
You will end up with gashes, no doubt
But maybe someday you will find someone
Who reaches out.