Poem - Insanity

Swollen eyes, he grinds his teeth while pulling at his hair,

Whilst cowering in a dark corner in a fit of despair.

Thoughts racing, heart beating faster than it should,

Opiated himself more than he ever thought he could.

Paranoid to no end with lack of oxytosin,

It only gets worse without his share of serotonin.

Receptors fucked and agitation rising like a tower,

Sweating like a godfucked pig, hour after hour.

Lonely, broke and jobless, he stares at the horizon,

A sign of freedom in contrast to his psychosis - an endless prison.

The rainbows and the clouds have all forsaken him to the edge

Of his limit and now he's about to step off that inviting ledge.

Nobody understands him, those insiduous bastards of annoyance,

Have raped him with their pretencious intensions and fucked with his tolerance.

To what end is he meant to stubbornly keep himself ostracized,

An anti-social masochist, ripped apart and self-victimzed.

The music helped - oh yes it did, so very long ago.

But that was before the pains inside had threatened to kill him slow.

A neurotic fragment of what he was, he can't go on like this,

Perpetually ripping apart innocent souls, sadistically he calls it bliss.

A self-induced plague of hedonistic fate, 

He'd like to gauge your eyes out and lay them on a plate.

And skullfuck you, imaple you and stab his dick right through you, 

You'd wish you knew, how the fuck he knew, when exactly and how to break you.

Paralyzed in hallucination of endless fucking slaughter,

the beast in him craves for sodomistic slaughter.

It lay forgotten how this automated and led to endless sorrow,

Continual pain, his demons unslain, there's always more for the morrow.

A Poem By Nicky Khilnani

Poem - The Story Of A Boy

Come little children - I've a story to tell,

About a boy and his head that gave him hell.

The chemicals he played with pulled him into a rut,

Where he found himself helpless and utterly fucked.

They slashed his soul and ripped him up and left him for dead,

Left him forsaken in a land of his own meds.

He may as well be lost forever as in his blood he lay,

His narcotic grave be pissed upon, they left him to decay.

Lonely and depressed, his luck didn't seem to unfold,

Until one fine day, fate ingratiated him with a pretty girl.

Her smile propped his fragile form back onto his feet,

Her presence was all he needed to get a good night's sleep.

His heart learned to beat at the pace of her breath,

The shame here alas, surely should have caused him death.

For her heart did not lie with him - a tragedy he found,

That left him broken and she watched him on his knees before he fell to the ground.

Destiny raped his soul and there he laid on his back,

The taste of her lips replaced by the flavour of crack.

And now in a corner somewhere, he's singing this song,

Descended from grace, there's something terribly wrong.

It now it isn't very possible to attempt to even mend,

what's broken and lost and now he's back where he was again.

The moral here kids is nothing's meant to be..

And trust me I know, for the boy here is me.

A Poem By Nick Khilnani

Poem - Let The Healing Begin

Let the healing begin,

I'm craving rest upon sin,

To heal the feeling within,

A stranger's smiling at me.

But I'm afraid to let go,

Cuz when I do so, you'll show,

Me what I already know,

That we just can't be.

A Poem By Nicky Khilnani

Poem - Freedom

With a noble attempt have I tried to bask myself in your embrace,

only to descend to a neurotic fragment of my former self and completely out of place.

I can only blame my godfucked past for the pathetic, frail, wretch I have become,

driven by the nefarious strings of sadistic fate, entwined around insiduous opiates and ungodly rum.

My sould pulses at ten times what it did before, 

brought on by sleepless nights without you, having left me sore.

The anger drives me insane and has forsaken me into blaming karma,

and now the voice inside of me is driven by hypocritical and perpetual paranoia.

My perserverance is near-dminished and the incipient end is near,

and soon my lack of optimism in this fabled lust will betray me, I fear.

I have brought this upon myself and need a lot more now than sheer luck,

to keep your angelic persona a part of my life, instead of to rot in a cancerous pile of regret and godfuck!

But praised be my sense of stubborn will,

for I now declare that something be done while still..

permitting this love to flourish without my obsession...

to forsake why this all began and endure the reality that all a girl wants is her fucking freedom.

A Poem By Nicky Khilnani