Aryaman Kakkar's Archive

There are sewing needles in my brain and jackhammers quaking my bones. My eyes are crescent moons who can’t get enough of shadows. Of spots dancing across my irises as I try to tumble into a peace that will never come. But the sea that shines against my skin and the sickness that consumes my essence taunt me. They laugh and scream with joy and I fold. I’m newly turned twenty-one for these card dealers. They wreck me with every move, every word, every bite. Security comes up and decides all of this isn’t for me. They sit me down and  I liquefy.  I am no longer.   I am begging for release. Free me! I can’t take this any longer. You have driven out my passion, my love for everything! You have stolen my music, my words. I don’t feel anything. I don’t! You shout and command, expect so much from me. To conform and to listen, to be everything I don’t want to. You have destroyed me. I am here, and you have devastated me. Made a monument of scars and demented thoughts set in titan...

  People are broken. We all carry the bleeding shards of our secrets, our fears, our hidden reflections. All of us wear happy faces dominated by mourning eyes because they are spectators to the violence inside. We always make the mistake of believing that the eyes are a one-way street. There is a reason we look into someone's eyes and dive deep to know the truth, the love, the pain they feel. There is a reason tears flow from our beautiful irises, whether of joy or sadness. There is a reason we close our eyes to allow ourselves peace. We are all broken people inside. We are afraid to show it in a world where it's survival of the strongest. And in the end, for most of us, that's the only thing that matters. We forget that we feel and instead stow them away like unclaimed baggage in an airport. Only this time, you know what's inside, and leave it behind still. We are all crumbling inside. We put up walls so we can get through this life if not unscathed, at least uni...

  You can finally hear. Not the roaring motorcade or immortal din of speech,   but the violent silence that charges through the metal forests, carried by whispers of winds. You can  finally see the moonlight as it washes the onyx road, in between the blazing neon.   We dwell in the confines of the sleeping cacophony and   finally, we can hear.  So, sit with me. My songs blare in wee hours of the night and you can see the symphonies wafting, caught  in the hazy city air. A bubble of trapped smoke and lucid dreams.  I await you in the darkness.   Just so you can destroy the quiet rage.   I can’t handle the silence any longer. I can’t be quiet any longer, repressing myself any longer. I have put  my fears on hold, just so I think others need me. I think they need me to solve them, just so they can be  their happier selves.  I want to, but   how do I tell them to see something that’s not here...