Category: diary

  • Haunted All the Way By You

    . One hundred million degrees below freezing, And Natasha buttoning up her eyes, Clap clap. . Bubbling oil heats the cell of cosy, As the pull of the future helps cavernous walnuts snap into another rise; Fingers crossed. . As routine marsupials splash with vigor, Running like cats away from litter. . Winter pallet shifts a tone…

  • Abstractions of December

  • “Don’t Molt”

    Is it eight am yet? What do i need, lies? Tiles cleaned for girls night, Candy-floss extensions of hate. . Sitting remembering the gemologist, Am i back on the breast? A stubborn cliche A combination of words. . A Maggie A black cat A text A feeling that’s down. A low Another day Another hangover Another inhalation. . Track between England, fog between…

  • Early Winter Light

  • Inside the Human Body

    Lately, starting around late September i have began to see and listen to the inside of my body. Imagine the kidneys pumping piss, my heart beating, pushing the blood and my brain resembling cottage cheese in a bloody gravy. Like brain masala served in Mumbai but mine alive. My lungs inhaling smoke, black and sticky like peas.…

  • Gold Dust and Birds

    The keys form cords that induce an eyeball elevation. Flickering frames, birds flying in and out of vision. A pigeon or a crow replacing the mighty ginger eagle of the sea, From way back then. The beach became paving slabs and moss, The sun disguised by brick not coconut. The Arabian Sea profound and distant. Warm Indian…

  • Observation of a Tribe and The X21

    A daily two-hour commute on public transport heading to something which resembles a large red triangle of sorts. A town full of supermarkets and pound-shops instead of aspirations. Poverty and push chairs, mothers and mobility scooters. Bellies and breasts, clad in orange, clad it knocked off sportswear, male and female. Tattooed necks, wrists and knuckles, shiny earrings, belts and buckles. Give it a sausage roll, thank god for Greggs. Human…

  • Instant History – Polaroids From Then

        © pinkybinks

  • Lost Posts – Leaving the Monastery

  • You’ve Come Home

    The light outside shielded by fabric, drapes, muted. Soft and gentle inhales. The piano and songs about snow. A small pink lantern looking better on that stall in Bombay. Coral harmony creeping effortlessly from technology while they work away, painting, filing, i stay horizontal. All days are different but flat connects one to the next.…

  • Watching Men Walk Whippets and Other Clichés – Life in North East England Part 1

    I have been back in England for one month. Days are drastically different and curated around pleasure, entertainment, calm. Travelling  limited due to the price of public transport and accommodation so i end up staying, or returning back to my temporary home most nights. A temporary home of comfort and quiet, pretty much surrounded by fields. When the time comes…

  • Almost Home – The End

    After two days on aircraft and the generic spaces within i am here, home, back in the UK – whatever that means. The train heads north from London, home bound. Eight months exactly from the day the train headed south towards london; towards the first flight right at the very beginning. A train with clean…