Easier Said than Done

Half a plate of bhel-puri, a bus back home to my bed, a message, a cigarette- something tells me that happiness has to be hollow/momentary if it can be bought for five rupees.

Speaking of crabs- "I wish I had a shell", she whispers in the middle of class.

I smile and doodle doodles open to multiple interpretations so that you can quit interpreting my life.


"Mysterious my ass!" I croak, still drowsy.

Don't touch me, I wish my body gave out the vibes that screamed that. I am drunk enough too scream the words out myself and get away with it.

"You don't get me"- I wish I could say that without sounding like an angsty teen or an American pop singer.

Forget it, I say, when you ask me to talk, or don't call me at all. I go buy my own happiness for five rupees.