DEAD IN MY EYES
BY AKSHAT PATHAK


I choked on the river full of ashes.
Nobody saw me, held me back
From this endless, petty fall.

My eyes sank low,
My body, surrounded by mud,
My feet splashed slow,
My head, scarred with blood.

Light flickered round my skies,
Dark, like a feverish dream,
Bothered these black flies.
Bleakness lingered round
The landscape. Dry feathers
Sought an escape.
Grey cat grinned, scorned
My presence. Eyeing my soul
With a vengeance.

I choked, gulped down these waters.
The river suffocated me, overwhelmed
My heart with disbelief.

Black streams hollowed my mind.
I was trapped between six feet and
Ten thousand miles. Owls flitted
At a distance, those fragmented
Memories sought extinction. I screamed,
My mind gaped twice—before I sighed.
Lightning fractured the purple sky;
My soul bowed to this infernal life.

Fading sunset churned the horizon.
I smiled, my eyes dulled,
The black rose sank, her petals in the mud.
Twilight shook the waters, my hands
Ached. Saltwater itched my throat,
My mind couldn’t escape.

The moon sat dead in my eyes,
My body went still, galloping through the water
Between these six feet and ten thousand
Miles.

IN MY HAND, I STAND
BY AKSHAT PATHAK

With a pen in my hand,
I stand.
They forsake me, discriminate
And threaten — when I hold
This wand.
They discourage me,
When their souls
are tainted.
They humiliate me,
Abuse the morose lives
I’ve created.
A despised life, I hold
With this quill,
In my unwashed hands.
A trauma of loss,
Restlessness and anxiety
I hide beneath this
Dirty, scarred hand.

Akshat Pathak is a writer based in Nagpur, India, working across poetry and fiction with a focus on psychological and literary fiction. His work explores emotional interiority and themes of love, loss, melancholy, and death, often through a restrained and reflective narrative style. He is currently pursuing a BA in English literature and is working on a book for traditional publication.

DEAD IN MY EYES
BY AKSHAT PATHAK

I choked on the river full of ashes.
Nobody saw me, held me back
From this endless, petty fall.

My eyes sank low,
My body, surrounded by mud,
My feet splashed slow,
My head, scarred with blood.

Light flickered round my skies,
Dark, like a feverish dream,
Bothered these black flies.
Bleakness lingered round
The landscape. Dry feathers
Sought an escape.
Grey cat grinned, scorned
My presence. Eyeing my soul
With a vengeance.

I choked, gulped down these waters.
The river suffocated me, overwhelmed
My heart with disbelief.

Black streams hollowed my mind.
I was trapped between six feet and
Ten thousand miles. Owls flitted
At a distance, those fragmented
Memories sought extinction. I screamed,
My mind gaped twice—before I sighed.
Lightning fractured the purple sky;
My soul bowed to this infernal life.

Fading sunset churned the horizon.
I smiled, my eyes dulled,
The black rose sank, her petals in the mud.
Twilight shook the waters, my hands
Ached. Saltwater itched my throat,
My mind couldn’t escape.

The moon sat dead in my eyes,
My body went still, galloping through the water
Between these six feet and ten thousand
Miles.

IN MY HAND, I STAND
BY AKSHAT PATHAK

With a pen in my hand,
I stand.
They forsake me, discriminate
And threaten — when I hold
This wand.
They discourage me,
When their souls
are tainted.
They humiliate me,
Abuse the morose lives
I’ve created.
A despised life, I hold
With this quill,
In my unwashed hands.
A trauma of loss,
Restlessness and anxiety
I hide beneath this
Dirty, scarred hand.

Akshat Pathak is a writer based in Nagpur, India, working across poetry and fiction with a focus on psychological and literary fiction. His work explores emotional interiority and themes of love, loss, melancholy, and death, often through a restrained and reflective narrative style. He is currently pursuing a BA in English literature and is working on a book for traditional publication.