Scream

In our house,
We are taught to scream.
Scream and shout,
And let it all out.
My mother calls us coconuts if we don’t.

In our house,
We are taught to scream,
Because if you don’t,
You’d be screaming on the top of your lungs,
Having had a nightmare,
About a pumpkin emoji wanting to carve your eyes out,
As you carved his on Halloween.

And so my parents taught us to scream.
We scream when we see creatures approaching us with a smile on their face and daggers behind their backs,
Only this time the scream sounds more like a squeaky laughter,
So we don’t give it an idea that we are on to them.

We scream when a creamy dessert set on fire is brought to surprise us on midnights,
Of the days we first cried on this planet,
But this time the scream is muffled with the off-tune voices of people singing songs.

We scream when the words hanging in the air are too light to fall down,
And gravity doesn’t seem to work on it either.
We scream when our opinions clash,
And killing someone is still a criminal offence,

We scream to let the devil inside our heads get his orgasmic release,
Because God forbid if he doesn’t get that,
He’d make sure to camp out in our brain,
Light a fire to keep him warm,
Sharpening his knife singing songs that are too harsh for some of us.

We scream at people, things and situations.
Because if we don’t do that,
We’d have a really quiet place to live in.
And a quiet environment isn’t a safe environment,
Because you’ll never know when they come to hunt you down.

– Prajakta Dengale

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Without words

Drained and suffocated

I feel without words

I used to think the biggest sin

Is to dig a grave for your words

On your tongue

And wishing trees would grow

Bearing fruits sweet

Oh so sweet,

That when you throw them at people

They’d always come back for more.

What if it was the way a kid doodles

on a piece of paper with his favorite crayon;

Some days it is,

and those are the days I truly live.

I’d like to catch a train to someplace

Watching as the mountains pass me by

And my fingers will simply know what to say

Without hesitating they’d run

As I wish to someday.

I’d wake older one day

Running out of time

The only thing that will be standing still

Will be the stacked, ink filled pages

Hoping I’ve not sinned enough

I’d embrace whatever comes my way.

Drained and suffocated

I feel without words

If only they felt the same

Without me.

– Prajakta

 

Choice

Some of us still live
with the lie
that things would be better,
when you’re the one
holding that steering wheel.

Some still throw the phrase
‘plenty fish in the sea’
after every heartbreak,
taping that lump of flesh
with words they’ll never say
to themselves, alone.

A few proudly gulp down
their own decisions
only to whisper,
‘Damn it’
the very next morning.

It’s not about having many choices
its probably just about
having that one small choice,
that could at least make a move
in the right direction;
that could actually be worth making.

But then again
if given a choice,
we’ll never be able to choose
between rainbows,
sugar coated truths,
and ruined dreams,
how would you know which leads to the end?

If given a chance to write your own story,
Will you fill the pages?
Or just scribble ‘the end’ on the last one?

– Prajakta Dengale

Bigger Picture

Day after day

Running in circles

Trying to catch a hold of ourselves

I can’t help but imagine being stuck

In a brave new world.

No matter if this is just a replica

Of a dystopian future imagined by a great mind

Maybe if you think of bigger picture

We could be held accountable

To something?

Imagine being on a blue Island

And to people from above

You’re just a dot,

A dot being a dot.

No, maybe this is not a phase

This is how everybody feels

And it’s something that is stuck

In the back of the mind

Of every living creature with a will to live,

Stuck beneath layers and layers

Of things we are wired to find important.

Maybe we all know

That if we look at the bigger picture,

We are nothing but a dot.

– Prajakta Dengale

Too young

We all have been here for a while
Seen things come and go out of style.

Watched sunsets with every shade
Sunrise came while we smoked bittersweet nightshade.

Bones creaked like broken chairs
We still danced like nobody cares.

Heartbeats raced like a jaguar
Sometimes losing sight of who we are.

Although there’s so many miles to go
We always say we’ll go with the flow.

Been here for a while
That we can live on with a blindfold,
It’s too sad
We are just too young to feel this old.

– Prajakta Dengale.

Broken Bottles

Rain pouring down the sky is just a reminder,
Of how a clouded mind cries.
It takes me back to the days when
Waiting in the hotel lobby seemed never-ending,
I started leaving my watch at home
In the purple box that you gave me
On the cold night of my birthday
Where we ate vanilla ice cream next to the bar;
Surrounded by broken Bottles
You asked me to watch where I step
I thought I did.

– Prajakta Dengale

Nothing at all

You say I hold the stars
Under the eyelashes I bat at you,
You say I carry your heart
Tucked under the layers I wear
Whenever I’m cold,
You say my laughter captures you
In a maze I built inside our empire,
We own nothing when we come
And shall own nothing when we go
You say I’m the queen
Of nothing at all,
And somehow
That’s everything.

– Prajakta Dengale

Green

And all of a sudden the flowers
Will bloom into no other but,
Life will give you whatever you need
You realise the voices
And scream into one other
You wish for the day you’ll be freed.
Everything is green
Every eye has seen
You’ll be
What you’ve always been.

– Prajakta Dengale

Remember me

Remember me as the cold night
When I sat across from you
Shivering in the outdoor restaurant you chose
For our very first date
You only grinned before offering me your jacket;
That still hangs in my closet
Keeping my house warm.

Remember me as the water that reflected the light one afternoon
We were lying on the grass by the river;
And you said, “I love this”
“This?”, I asked
“Everything”, you replied.

Remember me as the leaves that dripped water when we stood under the tree
Taking shelter from the rain
And you ruffled my hair;
Loving the drenched look I styled
Like a fool.

Remember me as the wind that blew my hair off my face
Showing off the scar on my ear
That looks like a tiny fish hook;
And you loved those gold earrings
I wore on every Sunday.

Remember me as the green sweater
I wore on winter mornings
And you scribbled a heart;
Under the sleeve
Saying that’s where I carry mine.

Remember me as the sand on that white beach
The one we visited last summer
Tiny grains slipped from the gaps between my fingers;
Just like you did.

Remember me as everything wild
And I’ll always be there…
As if you never left
Remember me as everything wild…

– Prajakta Dengale

We see you

We see you. You, yes you. We see you from the moment you introduce yourself offering your hand for a shake giving away only half of your name, afraid we might get on to you? Those milliseconds all we could think is how to get out of that filthy claw hold of yours.

We see you when you lean forward as an excuse to talk to us and your eyes shift quickly between our chest and our face. You think we don’t notice your tiny eyes and the way we are reflected in that blurry vision you carry in your head? We could scoop your eyes out with a spoon like ice cream and those tiny bastards would still stare at us.

We see you from the rear-view mirror how you shift between seats so our thighs touch together, and we have to wear a jacket as if we’re cold, but all we wish is to take a ice knife and insert it where it hurts the most.

We see you on the bus when you shamelessly stare at us seating next to you and raise your eyebrows as if you’re impressed by what you see. If only we could set fire to your bushes.

We see you when you raise your phone higher to take a selfie and ask us to smile only to take 5 more because you thought our smile wasn’t real. Your rotten stench is crowding in our mind and we’d chomp off all your limbs one after another, but we don’t.

We see you everywhere you go, doing everything you do.

We see you and you see us. We wish you didn’t.

– Prajakta Dengale