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

Weird Eyes

If you had loved me hard enough

“Don’t say those words like an afterthought.”

I burn that flower at night time

The urgency of this message

I’m in love with being myself

Vaseline love,

Apply lotion to a dry heart.

See it through.

Evidence of bubblegum

Cardamom,

Say the word I’m there.

Wax spilt on black marble.

“You came with thundering applause.”

And I burst into you…

Tears

Wide Eyed, weird eyes

Drown

A gaggle of loud noises

Beautifying the porch

Cigarette bodies hidden

Beneath

Neon smoke

Up Above

My nose throbs for your loins

Teeth willing to pierce through

Skin

And then flesh

Blood caramel

Dripping from your lips.

I lay my head down

A disembodied voice

“Nostalgia keeps me alive.”

(c) A.R. Minhas 2019

Fraud

I don’t deserve it.

“You look like you need it.”

          A cherry flavoured kiss.

I still taste you on my beard.

A door knocks.

         An ancient bird that taps.

Shadows close in on me.

          The mouse-trap with red velvet cake.

You don’t deserve anything.

          It snaps. It recoils.

This is how a dream breaks,

And I’m relieved.

You were never real.

          It was all given to you,

          And now you return to take me back.

I laugh at your audacity

“Papers, please.”

I was never here in the first place.

There is a beauty in surrendering.

© A.R. Minhas

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

A Weekend In Spider Country

I’m here

Sitting by the lake

If you can see me now

What do I have to lose?

 

If I wasn’t here it wouldn’t matter

If I’m not here it wouldn’t change you

It wouldn’t change the crystal clear water

 

There is nothing that I can do

Lying here impotent

On red Muskoka chairs

 

No matter how far I travel

Or where I sit

It doesn’t change

 

This unease

I can never get comfortable

 

Feeling useless isn’t unique

But feeling nothing

Is okay

 

Spiders crawling

Bedspread

I try to bleed them but they keep coming back

 

Nesting in my ears

You can hear them

 

 

Constructing a web

Trap the flies

I wish I could trap your eyes

Stroke them with honey

 

This sugar is for you

 

 

And there’s nothing left for me.

Leaving, wouldn’t matter

 

Staying

Is suspended mid-air

 

Floating

 

Spiders make me uncomfortable

 

And that’s why I can’t sit still.

 

© A.R. Minhas 2017