"Void" By Astha Kesri

What if I loose myself while trying to figure out why you left me ?

"I don't want to feel like this,

but this is all I feel..."

21:57 pm

How loud, would she have been, with glistening red tears of fury, loss, and wars within...

Who would've maimed her autumnal skies, rose skin, gentle aesthete, and country choruses, enough to spiral into a dark vacuum of shambolic ambitions?

How loud, would she have been, to chisel a world within...to feel so much only to feel nothing...

I need to stop deactivating my social media accounts and calling it therapy

30.06.2021

wildest of desires, serendipitous dreams , fiery fingertips , and unknown prophecies ...

The tragedy of being an artist is having to withhold a thousand souls in one body,

escaping only to conquer or to be doomed...

Such keen observers, how reticent to the naked eye,

yet, overwhelmingly exposed, aggressively honest, spatially present,

as if to mock oneself...

How January of a month to birth a poet in me ~

- Astha, "I should've painted my face blue", 18.01.2022

Vulnerable yet dominant

I wish to fill myself with answers to questions I've never asked, for my mind is a hesitant colossal of chaos and mysteries , and it demands , but wouldn't dare , to know , more...

I am still stuck in a reality that doesn't exist anymore...

- "Autumn", Astha

I suffer from stargazing...

16.11.2021