susmitartx

[susmitartx]

He is not curious

about my Playlist , my poetry , my art

My daydreams , my nightmares

and everythingelse i want to unfold in depth.

I wait , till the end of our conversation

sanguine about

one curious question .

its a void and i keep falling into it,

Into you .

I have looked in your eyes they don't shine when I'm Scattering petals of my mind , it's always looking somewherelse,

Where do you look at ?

The pyre of my unspoken verses ?

My eyes stitched with questions and yours stitched with silence .

Sometimes I feel

i should stop ‘actually’ mentioning any of it .

Then the apprehensions of separation encumbrances,

the burden of silence haunts

and i talk to myself ,

should i let things run wild

take its own shape ?

I don't know how to drive my pale-blue energy out

Am I fueling something bizzare by not talking about this to him ?

Am I getting crazy over this ? definitely

[susmitartx]

2 june 2025

I'm moving again , just like a sphere without friction , I'm moving , not knowing when to stop  I keep rolling .

I walked as the clock struck at six in the evening .

I Tried  lifting my luggage -- I couldn't.

I was feeble . my muscles had grown frail -- little could I feel  .

My dorky eyes looked for help ,  there was none .

I took a long breath and  I lifted ,

Lifted like my life was at stake ,

Lifted like the onus was on me forever ,

like my entire world would be elated once the problem vanished into thin air .

This time I could . I walked and loaded my bags in rear of our car .

While going to the station I kept my head stucked to the window , 

my eyes   vividly traced shapes  I could create from the whitish grey cloud floating above .

It was dusk already , the sun set with crimson-hue -

Taking only a silver  of the blue yonder

but a lion's share in  the eyes of its beloved.

I was that.

I loved ,

I lived for all the heaven could provide .

At the station :

We found a space to sit and keep the  bags until  the train arrived. 

I scrolled through my smart phone a bit  only to realise  how  much of a numbskull I'd become .

I wasn't looking at what  I really wanted

but a bunch of commercials  that  made me feel like  a clod .

I kept my phone in the pocket  and looked around ,

only to find a blue wagon ?

Yes , a blue wagon .

What else do you expect at the station?

The wagon was blue ,

not lapis or azure , it was Aegean.

I know colours , like Monica Geller knows bleach.

It stood there , like a point of quietude , steadfast among  the chaos .

I was pondering --was the  wagon sad like me ?

All its life it Will be anchored to the railway line , never knowing  the world outside the station .

The wagon and I were   two peas in a pod --only I had the  limbs .

 

I heard screeches,  it was definitely the train .

Was it in the throes of  life's storm ?

Was I thinking aloud ? 

the train overheard.

I don't know how to quell its pain ,

I never knew how to quell to mine.

My life's stunted -- trapped in positivity  , a bubble that bursts  when you feel passion .

You walk in the dark alleys of positivity

a word invented to light up your eyes

but ends up a burden  on your shoulders.

 

How do I stay positive when I'm not living ?

I'm  a dead soul in a living body , my clunky self has always been a good girl . 

Good girl to my mama , who lives her life through mine.

I'm the silver lining of her cloud . 

In the moving train ,

the body shifts  its organs  syncing  with  the  rhythm.

I don't like the hustle I'm part of .

I wish I could rewire my brain.

The train moved on.

The wagon stayed -- resting in its Aegean stillness

And I?

Watching the train pass

The clouds drift ,

I was somewhere in between—

Moving, still anchored.

Breathing, but not alive.

Maybe some answers aren't made for today .

[susmitartx]

I am scared to step out of my cage

I am a little bird caged since ages.

I don't remember  what to be out  feels,

I don't remember  hoe the sky looks ,

Encumbered by my fate , here I bend ,

I am little bird , I doubt if  I have feathers ,

I am a little bird , I have forgotten how to fly ,

But sometimes,  I dream of wind

I never knew ,

What If my wings remember  more than I do ?

[susmitartx]

And be desperate and careless at the same time.

Being like. Post-suicidal is so strange. Like hiiiii everybody im new I spent a good chunk of my life languishing and have like 3 or 4 lived experiences. But now I'm ready to fuck and party or whatever. Can we be friends. Im so happy to be here. Can we be friends

[susmitartx]

Dear susmita , you need yourself the most ,

You need to be brawny , for the world is always there to shut you,

You need to illuminate , to walk through the dark alleys

You need to be pugnacious , for the world always hides a dagger,

You need your warmth the most , for the world that is uncannily cold .

[susmitartx]

— nizariat

[susmitartx]

QUIETUS

His last words were , "mate banchei diya "( please save me)

Blood spilled from his punctured head , it was said the bike handle penetrated. The dreadful death , I feel sad for the first time for a stranger's death. It is sad to know , that person had his life planned , was going to marry , had a perfect job . The steep slope of saptasajya stiffed him forever. What might be his last thought? Could he have thought about his future or did he had his entire life flashback in front of his eyes. It's ludicrous , planning a future when you know the next minute can not be foreseen . Perhaps it is what life on Earth is meant to be . Health is wealth from it's truest meaning cannot be disobeyed. The melancholic part is that we can only cry , repent , and shut ourselves away from the gospel truth . We cannot change anything but our present . It is said survival of the fittest , over the years , with all the death I've come across I have known it's veracious essence

[susmitartx]

I have found my euphoria

In the dancing light , dazzling across the wet roads

In the white canvas , which is stuck with me like no otter

In my curls, which reminds me of no straight path to success

In my spotify library, where I rarely visit to keep my interests alive

In the lush green , where the divine creepers scrurried around making space to mollify my cramped heart,

In the sparkling beaches , whose pearls glimmer in my eyes,

I have found my euphoria in my books , their vivid prowess smothers the noisy gnat in my head.

I am sane , because I have found the room of my own.

[susmitartx]

summer solstice by Stacie Cassarino

[susmitartx]

The glimpses of past , particularly the part where someone or the other ever comment over my looks flashes just like any glowing beetles.

I feel the inferiority complex would drown me . I feel overshadowed . I know most of the time I'm not heard . These things constantly beeps back of my mind. Everytime I do something enjoyable, I feel guilty. The certain sense of proving people blinds me . I sense getting lost from the true essence of life. Inferiority is a very thick blanket , only one who have it knows how hefty it is.

It takes seconds to cover someone with this thick blanket , but Years to come out of it. Within that time period , the person might be dead of asphyxia.

Just like Sylvia plath talked about the fig tree. I want to be everything . I believe I can be everything , not master of all but better . I am teetering tottering between my passion . Sometimes it painting , sometimes it photography may be a professional reader or a writer , sometimes in a bureaucratic service , sometimes a cook . At the end the inferiority, the drastic comments , the evil laughter , the unhealthy friendships lays all of them dead.

It's beautiful to be dead . It's easy to care less then .

[susmitartx]

I'm tired of people discussing how I look !!

The discussion is more , may be because I care .

If I stop giving shit to this , will they stop ?

[susmitartx]

The more grateful you are, the more beauty you will see

[susmitartx]

I cannot write from the grave ,

So let me just be quick ,I like cars , books

, Children ,paper lantern , clouds ,

canvas , my sleep,

His fingers playing with my curls

,Forehead kisses , poems , new stories

And his arms wrapped around me ♡

[susmitartx]

I hate how ' He ' suppresses her ! 23 Years of marriage and he still didn't learn to keep his anger grounded . Is this how Indian marriages work ? I'm tired listening to the hefty words he throws at her. Should I call him a maniac ? 20 Years are enough for someone to learn how not to.be impatient , when we know it takes 21 days to change a habit or to put something into habit . He had been cultivating this anger , this self righteousness , offensive mindset , demon aura and what about her ? She has been putting out the fire , encouraging the reason thinking that she'll change him , she'll keep him grounded. Flower stops flowering once you pluck the fuck out of it. I don't want her to stop flowering . She's beautiful . she has the potential to do better . I'm scared , I'll lose her to the abyss. I love her , they are inseparable but the anger breaks me .

[susmitartx]

Inside the precincts of my rooms , I lied myself.

Love isn't a blessing my darling , I betrayed myself

Anguish under my skin , might burn your flesh to ash ,

The waves of my thoughts, might drown you.

It's not like I didn't move on. I did move on. I don't want to be with him ever again . It's impossible to think myself with him . The whole idea of coming into relationship with someother person I vibe or find my comfort , is a bad idea .

I am loving the way I get all the time to grow myself, learn new skill , being stable mentally is invincible . This insurmountable way of living , I guess I need to keep going .

When one fine day , I'll breathe stress out , I'll be ready to accept the gypsy and a whole new life with him ♡

[susmitartx]

I should have loved a thunderbird instead

[susmitartx]

I was in a 6 year relationship . I don't know where to begin . May be I didn't wanted to feel lonely so I chose to stay , even though I could leave the very next moment when I felt bad about your behaviour . I cry my heart out and nobody ever knew. I left . I couldn't bear the truth . I was dreaming, the entire 6 year, acting to be happy through out , but I wasn't. Now that I woke up , the reality hurts . The dream gave me sculpted pain on my skin . Now I am busy keeping myself occupied . The malicious thought of going back ruptures my nerve .

I yelled at my roomate . I couldn't bear the silence she asked me to keep all time. I am changed . I was never this . I was someone who tolerates everything , even the worst . But this time my head was heavy and her voice broke in like an old witch's laugh , shedding blood from my heavy head .

I guess I was drowning in the pool of blood , and my voice saved me . The rage brought me to tears , but I had to yell , to let her know , someone who tolerates ,should never be underestimated ! Its a RED FLAG 🚩.

I feel bad , I couldnt resist I was already in pain . You neve tried to understand me . Then why should I ?