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

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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

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

‘Fire Above, Water Below’ – My Brush With Death. (Art available for purchase)

On June 11th, while I was sleeping, I heard a roar.
 
“Get out! FIRE!”
 
I awoke dazed and confused, struggling to grasp whether I was dreaming or if this was reality.
 
My hands automatically went for my glasses, but somehow they didn’t go for my wallet or phone. I escaped the house; my mother carried out by a kind stranger who had bellowed the earlier command, and my father closely following him.
 
We struggled to get to a safe distance as we saw a truck inflamed. The duct-cleaning truck had caught fire, and that had traveled to our neighbors. Our house is semi-detached, and with the right push from the wind, the flames spread across our roof. And I watched with horror as our house was disintegrating.


Available for purchase on Redbubble, please click on the link below:

‘Fire Above, Water Below’ (c) A.R. Minhas 2019

Then the fire crew came, and they doused the flames with torrents of water.  At this point the roof had holes, and our entire house was soaking in water and smoke. It took them an hour-or-so to put it out, as we watched the place I had so many memories collapsing in front of my very eyes.

My mother, who is dealing with a form of Vertigo, felt everything spinning and couldn’t even sit straight. We had to take her to our neighbor’s house so she can lie and wait for the paramedics. After she was settled, I returned outside.

I kept looking at our house, unable to look away from the fire.

Later on, when they allowed us in the house,  I went into my room, to see the extent of the damage. My room was relatively intact, but everything was soaked, and I could smell the smoke. I was also able to recover my phone and wallet (Thank Odin!)

Also my Tarot cards and ‘The Portable Nietzsche”. (If you don’t already know he’s the one who wrote: “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.”) It was at that moment the line hit me. “Fire Above, Water Below”, like the ancient saying that described the power of tarot cards. “As Above, So below.” 

The original painting that creeped me out as a kid.

Once out of there, I was also able to get my laptop and phone.  I was able to recover the painting I was working on in my phone. It was an image of an Indian farmer and his wife.

This picture hung in our old house and always bothered me. I don’t know who made it so if there’s anyone familiar with it, please let me know as I want to give the artist credit as well.

 I was working on it before, and after the incident, I made it reflect the words I had heard in my head. I updated it and now before you is my work. It’s littered with me, my memories, my dreams, and my fears.

The process of making this has been therapeutic, as it has reduced my stress level and allowed me to channel it constructively.

I want to use this experience not only to get stronger but also more carefree and express myself as freely as possible. Remember, we don’t have time — we can either burn from the ‘Fire Above’ or drown from the ‘Water Below.’





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

Goddess Sativa

She told me, and I didn’t believe her

“Use teeth next time”

Just to hurt more.

A heart doesn’t want to be sober

Like a trail of swollen lights

Blaspheming moths

Incinerated

Masturbating to their own destruction.

You hear the ventilation buzzing

A stutter of cicadas

Stroking to their vibrations

And I cum a purple substance

Goddess Sativa floating in my throat.

The stickiness of thought,

And a centipede spirals into my ear.

It whispers–

“I have stories about the crawl space in your mind that you don’t want to talk about.”

And then I laugh.

I laugh because it doesn’t mean anything.

And I should’ve believed her.

I don’t want to be sober.

I only want to worship you.

(c) A.R. Minhas 2019

I Hear Things And I Feel Nothing.

“I have shared secrets with you…”

“Oh Dead Mother!”

“Come have your pills. Depression doesn’t look good on you.”

“It’s just a coincidence that you wore red today.”

“I’m masturbating in public!”

“…And let’s abort this thing.”

“And why do you care that our generation is the worst?”

“You didn’t taste that way before…”

“And I’m learning more about you. Every time we feel each other.”

“Just remember– The Dream of a Green Sunday.”

“Meat has turned raw, my existence is a tragedy.”

“White-Chocolate Cheesecake is the escape, and I feel nothing for you.”

“There was love once…wasn’t there?”

“I think and there was an illusion.”


(c) A.R. Minhas 2019