somewhere between history and reality- Ari Purkayastha

Like a parasite, the chandelier
consumed souvenirs
of molten wax-
that streaked cobwebs across
the Kashmiri carpets,
where once your footprints
spun heritage.

But, the windows levigated,
heaved by shadows
haunting the verandas
with a lunar flute like lilt;
while the doors revetted
the decayed masonry
of your legacy.

Yet you coffin the starlights;
and ween history,
your placebo..

••ari purkayastha fallen alone

Ari Purkayastha is just another wild person with wilder thoughts, who thinks that writing them down might mean that the people around her won’t realize how out of touch with reality she really is, but she tends to write random gibberish in the randomest of places, so most already know. She likes words, and weirdly surreal metaphors, and sad songs, and has a sick sense of humor (depends completely on how you interpret sick). You can catch up with her on twitter at @ryekayas or just check out her blog.

(And now I’m going to pretend that writing about myself in 3rd person didn’t feel weird at all)

Author: Ra'ahe

i'm half a moon & half a black-hole. i don't ink love, i bleed longing.

7 thoughts on “somewhere between history and reality- Ari Purkayastha”

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