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"I have known music to be her timeless reverberation in a forlorn corner of my soul; just when life was closing down upon me with its pangs of haunting silence."
"Hope is the point the 'world within' comes to an equilibrium with the 'world around'."
"The cold that my body feels can be comforted by pullovers of our choices. It is the winter that comes back each year, inevitably; is how we are connected on the face of time. A sweet suffering of forever..."
"My poverty, I know, was glamorous because trading you, my love, for a better life is outright heinous."
"Love was the day when she drank and I felt quenched."
"Life, ever since, had been one gripping tale. Your happening gave it a genre."
"Want is the soul's desire. Need, the mind's crave. Love, thus, I believe, is a bit of both."
"Art is how you lie to the world without ever feeling sinned."
"Sorrow is true and beyond the powers of healing, when you can taste the oceans on your lips."

On Being a Writer

On Being a Writer
~ Sobhan Pramanik | Sunday, July 08, 2018 |
grieve if you must,
but know where to
draw the line.
any further than that,
and you'll be trapped
for life - in this quiet
squirming of words on
your skin. like the gentle
hands of a woman roving
down your chest, and you
cannot resist being taken.
it's alluring, but it'd
twist your soul and
clinch your breath.
make you see the world
in absolute inverse where
you'd cut your vein to laugh
at the throbbing blood,
and weep hard at being loved.
where you'd shun laughter
and friendship to close yourself
in burning silence and let it kill you;
slowly.
know where to draw
the line, oh! bereaved lover.
before thy heart transcends
all human realms
to be a writer.

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