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

Advertisements

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.

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

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

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

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

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

Purchase Stickers Here

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

Fire Above, Water Below (Poetry)

Purchase Art

Your naked body

Against mine

Roof charred,

I can see your frames

Calcium deposits in your ears.

Unsteady legs,

Vertigo

“Our world collapses on ourselves.”

Did you dream of a tower?

Fire above

Explosion of lint

Torrents of water chew the wood

I present the creeping mold

“And what about my plants that I had kept for Feng Shui?”

They have succumbed to smoke inhalation.

The old you is dead.

A fetus was found in the flood.

It comes to term

The world is anew

And the summer child can’t stop laughing.

(C) A.R. Minhas

The Love I Expected.

I never expected to be loved

There are some shortcomings

And here I am

Still

Stuck in a glue trap

“Flesh imbued with pain.”

Heart doesn’t care anymore,

It barely pumps blood

And I hear it

Function like an abandoned beehive

Dust gets in your eyes

Flecks of honey distributed for hedonism.

And

I stare

Into a white tar pit

Evidence of Red Lipstick on the end of a cigarette butt

Craving for a hit

Nicotine oppression

A dream someone had dreamt before,

But the Queen pushes me away.

“These lungs aren’t going to immolate themselves.”

Ash trapped on my beard

The tower is burning

The entity free falls

No soft landing, tainted by love.

Ribcage is a prison,

And I’ve been institutionalized.

Leave my scrawl marks behind,

I don’t have any good memories to share.

(C) A.R. Minhas 2019