I like bars and coffee shops

I like duty free Sunday mornings

I like the smell of fresh air

I like conversations without intent

I like blue stains and tame impala beats

I like after rain evening walks

I like poetry without commodity

I like cheap clothes and funk aesthetics

I like my friend Anukii’s cars and the weird crystals she has.

I like having controversial opinions and having weird conclusions

I like my manic self around my friends.

I like blessings.

I like to run around and pretend I like to read.

I like to pretend.

I like to…

The sting

In the multiplex of things, I feel about my father and the implications of those things, I put another entry today.

A stinging feeling runs through my body.

A stinging feeling runs through my body.

A stinging feeling runs through my body.

A stinging feelin ……

when I see myself in the mirror

when I taste my own breath

the bends on my forehead shout him !!

stings again! and again!

the curtains roll, the show begins.

A humongous body power breaks my soul,

steps over it and goes to work,

the stings appear a decade later.


I wanna love you …

I wanna kiss you,

while the sun lurks in through the blinds

while the world seems to dim in my mind

In this moment of infatuation,

our smiles tell us a story, a story to each other, that

don’t seem to verbalize by our strange minds.

In the moment of exchange,

everything seems to fade away

the promise of the future seems to fade away

the imprints of the past seem to fade away

the grip of my perceived self seems to fade.

nothing remains,


the story you told me.

The moment I saw you some clichés struck my mind

the ambiguity of your scent, sent me somewhere, somewhere I have never been.

you became that one unoriginal love song in my head.

your hand brushing my arm is all I could care for.

I hate that ‘you are not that important’ stare you had there outside that door for me.

your unexpected coldness, without a sign, still keeps me tirelessly warm at night.

I guess I'll be just one of those Instagram pics in your archives.

Tough to be inspired.

Do what you love to do.

until you do it enough,

I call this bad marriage syndrome.

eyes of everyone tearing you apart.

dissecting your soul.

piece by piece serving it.

while you watch your soul bleed.

until you call it quits.

until you stop bleeding.

then become a fool in love again.

to call it your love.

eventually & inevitably to be cut into pieces again.

till you’re eventually dead.

so go ahead cut me into pieces, here again.

till I am ready for the slaughter again.

watch me die as we speak.

till I am in love again.

Too tired of being a cynic. I wanna see good, good god! Live and let live.

Too attached to the strings of my own mortality and morality. the fear of flame.

justifying my existence as I go.

Just to be misunderstood.

just feel like an imposter.

am imposter to this world.

am imposter to myself.

Dumbfounded and dis attached.

what is real?

the paranoia of being alone and alive.

should I cut my strings to face the music?

or confine, to eventually face the dread that precedes me.

I am privileged and spoiled.

But unhappy and traumatized.

I need a…

gurmehar singh

A university student in Vancouver, currently trying to find himself as cheesy as it sounds.

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