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Twin beds

I book an appointment at the psychiatrist.
“An appointment for two.”
“You, and ?” the receptionist asks.
“Anxiety” I whisper. “Couples therapy.”

I try to fall asleep on a twin bed intertwined with cold sheets
But I cannot because the other half of my bed
Won’t stop murmuring.
He pulls me into his sheets,
By the wrists of my hands-
Afraid I may leave him for the daylight.
He says something about cheating-
About the satisfaction of enjoying anothers’ presence-
I hold myself captive near the lampshade and try to explain myself.
I tell him I have never truly slept in my bed
But he grits his teeth and slams the drawer open by the lampshade
I see his fists clench as he takes the Xanax away from me
He says Xanax takes me to bed, gets me to breakfast
It seems like a healthy relationship
But-
We-
The both of us-
We’ve been on and off since high school
But he’s stuck around; for the past two years
That is a healthy relationship, right?
I’m not sure anymore
It is the longest relationship I’ve ever had.

-Nicole Ruth
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Destruction & Deceit

on rare days

when I end the eclipsing

of my own humanity

with that that is not

or maybe is less

and is similar

to a generous allowance

of too much peace

a semblance of deconstruction

brick by brick

discarded mortar

dissipated dissatisfaction

I will make even

the most blessed

regret his presence

through realm warping shrieks

awakening disjointed logic

of failures and truth

carried through

deoxyribonucleic acid

proving fallacies

of greatness

relayed through eons

of oral tales

that were mumbled

carried like rushing water

tides of blood lines

wrought of disappointments

 

find shelter

do not risk

your presence here

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Faded Shades of Life

Faded

Gone are the days when faded meant old;

Worn out, expired, out of touch;

When clothes had an expiring date;

Starting with the moment they get their first wash;

Things were only appreciated when they looked new;

Continue reading Faded Shades of Life

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1-800- Chup kar

Why is it that the weight of my culture

Can be scaled down

And lost amidst translations

Generated from a Google Toolbar

 

Ask Starbucks to take a back seat on their “Chai lattes”

Because originality does not seem like their forte.

A delicate haldi doodh mixture-

A recipe for cold passed down from generations,

Is now validated because Jarrow Formulas decided to term it “Golden milk”?

Continue reading 1-800- Chup kar

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Let Love Shine

 

One thing I really hate about writing is writer’s block. On the other hand, I can say that whenever I go through writer’s block, I always feel as if I have come back stronger than before and with pieces just as strong. Getting out of writer’s block tends to be a long process for me. Where all of my poems are typed up, some poems do start written on a piece of paper and that is my cure to writer’s block. The relevance between writer’s block and this post is that I was actually experiencing it when I wrote this. With a very good friend of mine (of the Instagram kind) who was also experiencing writer’s block, we decided to collaborate. We exchanged a few lines and I was inspired by the ones she sent me and that is how “Let Love Shine” was born.

Continue reading Let Love Shine

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The circle of life: A millennial edition 

In today’s headlines: The daily millennial complains of increased apartments rents

whilst aligning carefully, his dysfunctional yellow bicycle

by the chipped paint thinner walls on his compound

This is in order create an illusion of aesthetic

but observe as he stalls, along his walk to the rent department

as to seem not too interested in the counter offer

because after all,

money is a social concept

He then proceeds to diverge

steering clear into the nearest Starbucks

as his “basic” radar goes off

sniffing the faint tinge of a chai latte in the air

He looks around in order to find more of his kind

but it seems as though the setting sun

has created a labyrinth of hues

which has now distracted the Vine cultured millennials

off their 6-second attention span

They proceed to whip out their iPhone 7’s

that weighs just as much as a pocket watch they could possibly be hiding

in their plaid pant pockets

in order to take an Instagram picture

of a half tilted take away cup in Valencia

Remember always, the millennial motto:

If you place your possessions by an aesthetically pleasing background

make sure to always double-check

that they are colour coordinated and bizarre

because why be rational when you can be irrational?

 

-Nicole Ruth

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Sometimes The Darkness Is Our Lantern

 

Life experiences encompass of multitudes of trial and error. In this world of growth, we become a speckle, a drop of water which falls from the tap. Sometimes this drop goes straight into the dark tunnel and through to the other side. Or, sometimes, we are that drop which when it reaches to land, deviates away. There are two things that can happen. The drop which takes the path of going through the dark tunnel actually uses this darkness as its lantern. It faces its darkness, both internally and externally and is ready to face the light (at the end of the tunnel) with its own light. But this may not always be the case. This drop may get stuck in the tunnel, and as a consequence may allow the darkness to overwhelm it. What can this do? This can cause the drop to become bitter. In the other scenario of where the drop deviates from the tunnel, it is actually deviating from its darkness, going with the flow. It allows itself to be swept along the current, facing life without actually facing its wrongs. Is this healthy? Of course, it is not. But, it is reality for many to choose the path of ignoring their darkness and refusing change.

Sometimes the darkness is our lantern. But it all depends on how brightly we choose to light this lantern if we choose to light it at all.

Written by: Soshinie Singh

 

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The Rescue

Appreciate the fact that you are breathing“, you say.
I don’t respond. I am gasping for air beneath my tears. You seem concerned and confused as to how to handle my breakdown. In this situation, we exchange roles from you trying to soothe my shivering body to me consoling you; nodding my head, barely managing an “I’ll be fine.” We both know that fine will not come soon.
On days like these I do not need your logic. I need the warmth in your hands and your chest to remind me that I’m not just “breathing” alone. I need your eyes to convey your love into mine. I need your understanding, not your replies. God sometimes sends people to us when we are drowning, you stand close and unsure of how to offer your hand. Simply open your arms. I will retreat into them, unravel my self back into fragile skin to fill them. Tell me that you are here to pull me back ashore. Stay holding me long after these tears run dry.

– Samihah Pargas

– Instagram : @Shadesofherink