My thoughts on Daisies.

A clean slate. With her gone, my whole family has disappeared. A gust of wind on the dust of time passing by in the hourglass that pulveriz

A zine by Varsha Panikar from their ongoing mixed-media series, Origami Folds. Available on Amazon Kindle.

So much money spent and so many years of education later, I can not even remember most of the information I memorized and regurgitated.

How many 'I am fine' rolled between your tongue despite the heaviness you feel in your chest?

I live in Mumbai now, and it doesn’t have too many terraces. A window view of the moon is rather rare, and the sky is never that clear.

I started writing ‘Dream Diary’ when I was about 16. One day I started jotting them down, for the fear I might forget them, even though

Excerpt from my series Origami Folds. Published in the zine - Brown Bodies by The Rights Collective.

First published in the zine - Skin - a Marketplace Journal by Forbidden Verses on 20th March 2021 Download the Zine here.

You ever wish that you could just rewind? Go back in time, And just turn out fine?

drawn from the memories of these fascinating and mysterious dreams that have haunted me, inspired me, comforted me and always left me....

We live in a world where anything that deviated from the norm is mislabeled and misrepresented. So until we live in a perfect world, I need

Is there a fury in the bleakness of the after-death, a separation beyond anxiety, a hopelessness beyond the last farewell?

As I stand here In this crowd of strangers I hear a familiar song. One that strikes a chord Deep down in my soul. Songs of menacing...

And suddenly, I was falling through the clouds, through the rays of that blinding sunlight. It was a while...

I fell out of reality and into my dream only to wake up under a kaleidoscopic glass ceiling that somehow reminded me of your eyes...

The scene in my room is like a weird dream, and this reality is hurting my mind. I am standing and staring at my life in confusion.

Every sad faced clown, every overblown ‘everyone dies in the end’ play, every awful pop song about heartbreak. I’m the one behind all that..

The best way I can explain it is if I examine the separation of the two worlds to staring through a rain-spattered windowpane.

Excerpt from, The End Of The Line. I feel tender, but not like a flower or a love story. Instead, a deep cut left weeping in the cold...

I will wait for better times on the other side and find myself drawn to your gravity, once again, but time...

ome things I embrace, some things I throw out to the pigeons and lost souls that search for meaning, and some things, I let take me to....

All that awaits me now, is death and her kiss, like slivers of moonlight on my shoulders and hopes that this night slips away without us...

I am having one of those days where this feeling is so impenetrable that I can’t believe I am able to sit upright.