Everything is Borrowed

This cold autumnal night,

Coyotes crawling in someone else’s backyard.

The ugly howl.

A man in pain.

Overhead wires ecstatic with Love.

This is borrowed time.

This is a borrowed house.

Blue Smoke ecstacy

My lungs ache to be with the beloved.

The chest cavity can’t contain its pain anymore.

There are tentacles of pleasure.

My head swimming with dopamine–

Let’s float on the synthetic wave.

“Oh! I thought there was no one in the elevator”

And you were right.

I’ve borrowed this entity.

It does what it’s told.

And it wants to forget.

Its a negative of a photo,

Burning a long time ago.

And no one was there to capture its light.

(C) A.R. Minhas 2019

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by A.R. Minhas

Novel: “Confessions of an Abortion Addict” – First Draft

Hey guys,

I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been busy finishing the first draft of my novel, “Confessions of an Abortion Addict”.

I just wanted let you guys know that I haven’t forgotten about you but it’s been a very hard process for me. I’m very close to finishing the first draft and I hope it will be completed before the year ends. I wanted to post this because I wanted some feedback.

I’m wondering about how to actually go about publishing it. I’m leaning towards self-publishing but I’m open to any suggestions. Please, share your thoughts with me. I would really appreciate it, thank you.

by A.R. Minhas

If I walk out of this party would anyone even notice?

Non-existence.

That’s all I share.

Nothing to hold onto, just drink this beer.

I have blue dreams,

And I want to stay high.

You didn’t even hear me when I said “I love you.”

If I left right now, it wouldn’t even make a difference, would it?

I screamed but all you could hear were cicadas buzzing.

I’m falling apart right in front of you.

Smoke this cigarette, the ash burns your clothes.

It’s okay to be naked when your flesh means nothing.

I want to feel entropy.

Sliding into the abyss.

There is nothing to stare into.

I have become the void, and I was never really here to begin with.

(C) A.R. Minhas 2019

by A.R. Minhas

Nihilism.

There isn’t any safety.

Particles colliding randomly.

I can only see a story through a microscope.

It’s just me,

Dreaming

Of smoke smelling like rubber tires.

And here I was lying in a puddle of sweetness.

My only paperback friends.

Buried under Ash.

Black water seeps through you

“And don’t you forget the plants!”

Even the trees are depressed today.

We lost our Summer-child.

A season of Abortions.

Those Mango trees have Fetuses sleeping in them.

I sleep on a hard bed now.

The weight of the world on my back,

And here I am feeling light.

I own nothing.

And I sleep in perfect silence.

(C) A.R. Minhas

by A.R. Minhas

In A Swimming Pool

Saturday was meant to be boring.

Then a Mansion appeared.

View of the lake, and the buzzing of sea creatures. The lights of the city drown out the loneliness.

We talk about UFOs and an apple falls.

Bare feet, we play like we did as children.

The coarseness of the road, the calluses remind you of life.

Backyard, or a Grecian garden.

In the cover of Cedars we play with Arrows.

You always miss the point.

“I want to feel the sharpness of the wet grass, I’m on Earth after all.”

The blueness of the swimming pool.

Heated foam rises up as I see images of a black hole.

My box contains Tarot cards and Lady Pink Kush.

She fills my belly up with dreams and warm feelings.

The end of a beer bottle, stuffed with cigarette butts and dreams of ash.

I see bodies of my friends floating.

I’m here for you always but you needed something that I couldn’t provide– A conversation. The right words, in the right order and at the right time.

But how can I help you? I’m an island.

Like you I’m lost. Swimming in absurdity.

The sun judges me for observing my friends like objects in a Petri dish of literary experiments. It marks me as a war-criminal like I am.

I’m like this empty beer bottle stuffed with cigarette butts and dreams of ash.

And I can only provide you with more nihilism.

So let’s float here in salt-water laced with chlorine.

And not do anything today.

(C) A.R. Minhas 2019

by A.R. Minhas

Isolation

How long will you give me the lie?

Is it going to get better?

You told me to live every moment

And yet you steal it away from me

Whenever I’m thinking about you.

If this is what it takes

Then I don’t want to be happy

If it comes at a price.

If you have to pay for other parts separately.

You can keep it,

I rather be alone and miserable

Than make another soul bear my existence.

This ransom of affairs,

My body betrays me as it reaches out

“You can’t fight nature.”

And with you

When do you plan on torturing me?

Tentacles laced with spiny roses

It’s ok

My heart has grown in an isolation tank.

It can only imagine possibilities

But it is familiar with the dark

Well-versed with the blackness of the universe.

It will evolve

My heart doesn’t need a body anymore

It just forgets from time to time.

(C) A.R. Minhas

by A.R. Minhas

It’s Time To Sleep.

I knew what they said about me was true.

I don’t actively listen.

Conversations all hand gestures.

I will only disappoint you.

Maybe it’s time to sleep.

Put the phone away.

It’s no use. It’s not like words matter.

“Or more importantly the entity who speaks these words doesn’t matter.”

I’m tired and I can’t sleep.

All the blue light gets in the way.

Stimulated by connection.

I disconnected from you long ago.

I watch pornography on the phone.

“No! There isn’t anyone I would like to talk to.”

If only I got what I wanted.

Then there would be no need to make poetry.

Who knew living was a compromise?

Sweet death, the equanimity of the womb.

I gently drink that sugared coffee

In hopes that I can bathe in the

Cigarette infused sunset.

Everything is gone to ash

What else there is to say?

Maybe I can be foolish again.

(c) A.R. Minhas 2019

by A.R. Minhas

The Cologne That Got You Excited

You flutter

With the least bit of worry

And I’m weak-willed

Flowers

They expressed midnight with showers of orgasms.

I came on top of my tarot cards

And I saw the sharpest of reds.

Sigils that I marked you with

And your pussy tastes like the medicine I need.

Bitter sweet

And possibilities of

Of Children

We smoke till our lungs can’t carry the weight of our Ashes.

I meditate in the thorns of your pubic hair.

My head has a white hat and your breasts talk to me in sign language.

The warmth of your hands remind me of a purple color.

Let’s rest here on the pavement like beggars as we are crowned by the pirouettes of hungry moths.

I wish light to all

Also heart disease

Melt cheese with your mouth

And smell this cologne

Every breath is a sharp draw

Of the swords in the heart.

If this doesn’t make you hard nothing will.

(C) A.R. Minhas 2019

by A.R. Minhas

I’ve finally setup my Tumblr! Please follow and consider following me on other social media as well.

I don’t know why it took me this long but I’ve finally setup my Tumblr account. Please follow

@

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Twitter:@arminhas

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by A.R. Minhas

“The High Priestess” – (Poetry/ Artwork for Sale)

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I’m surrounded by mystical faces

“Great Simurgh protect me in your wings!”

Shaped like eyes

Pupils dilate like solar flares.

Your tachyons are showing.

I masturbate to activate the sigil

Cum to the sound of a Hummingbird heartbeat

Vision of Cicadas

Revisit in that chamber

You tell your greatest lies in small truths

And your skin feels familiar

Stale smoke and ancient car smell.

High priestess, I came to you that night when I wanted to summon Mercury.

And your lips tasted like strawberry, and I know about your charred lungs.

And we remain sweet like secrets to each other.

(C) A.R. Minhas 2019

by A.R. Minhas