Friday, April 26, 2013


Let our ink speak out the thoughts that we hesitate to speak from the tongue .
Let our ink bleed out the truth to the world through vibrant metaphors.
Under the sky we all are equal but divided by thoughts and perception.
I agree with no caste creed or race.
I believe in no religion that urges to hate.
I believe in truth and i trust my ink.


committing the sins so unholy
fallen to disgrace so slowly
here i am bound in the sanctum of melancholy,
where grief and despair embark on my shoulders
forcing me to kneel to the glory of the darkness,
as far as i see i visualize nothing but emptiness,
madness is all around me darkness has once again found me.
sarcasm of the fate and i am running late,
should i run for life?
do i really have one?
or should i rest in the grave?
do i need peace of should i embrace noise?
i did what i should have never done,
Regarding you as the only one.
forcing me to drown in the river of infernal flames
you burdened my heart with your meaningless blames,
what i had for you in my heart was so holy,
and yet i am stuck in the sanctum of melancholy,,
*byron bloodlust*


Death pain destruction in your realm of sanity.
And your tears are a curse on humanity.
Doomed are you and so is your love.
As you feed on souls in pursuit of purity.
The sacrament of innocent blood in your chalice of damnation.
As i can see nothing else but a dark resurrection.