BLIZZARD

Meet Amir Sulman
He comes with free bitch slaps, hugs and kisses and unexpectedly awkward comments in public.
Goes by the name of Zyn Del Mar in the literary circle, Jennifer in the 'male' circle and Lorenzo in my favorite druggie circle, he is many a souls in one.
In a hate-hate relationship with one Medusa, he is currently single (not unlike a Pringle) and quite ready to mingle.

Everybody say 'MashaAllah'

He  is the winner of KELS ENGLISH Story Writing Competition 2015, KELLOGS Blog Writing Competition Tragedy 2016. And a regular columnist at KINGSPEAK as Zyn Del Mar and *news flash* Aunt Agony.
His most epic piece of work has been Harry Potter and The Shit That Got Real


It's his birthday today, I hope everyone reading this, leaves a comment wishing him a very happy birthday! He is very excited because his Uncle visits him on his birthday and brings him lollipops and sweets!

 Here is the most epic poem you will ever read. Get all serious and in the mood and don't let my senseless babble ruin it.
Okay.
Go ahead.

BLIZZARD    

     

I paint the sky black

I have a sea of dark chocolate flowing out of my head,

A biblical circus of Babylonian crimes dances in my left eye,

Eyeing my right eye, blind and bare,

Contrasting shades of depression and loneliness in either cheek,

Allies but not friends.

And the tongue sings primitively rhapsodies of scepticism and desire.

Both of my hands are made of solid gold,

I drag my stony fingers along the cool walls of the dark corridors,

while I dream of dying in a blaze of metal fumes and grey smoke,

or being silently murdered in a roadside motel by an old lover.

The first cut is the deepest, the rest merely hurts.

And I raise them while I sing hymns of divine providence.

From there onwards and downwards I am half and half.

A reflection in my mirror smiles the crooked smile of a demon,
I pop a candy coated Percocet and I break into an oxycodone trance,
I wait for the solstice from winter sun to summer snow,
A rabbit hole sprouts in my room every now and then,
A priestess and a seductress share a drink with me,
The mockingbird in my clock has frozen to sleep,
Wishing on the lesser bones,

Dances clumsily to its heart's desire,

My heart quickens before it breaks uneven,

And the rosary breaks in my hands.

And then I see my own reflection,

Like Lucien Carr's suburban nightmare.

Pull my daisy, tip my cup,

Chock me steady when my time is up?

A million empty orchestras playing the most melancholy of all tunes,

The mermaid vs the sailor, while Ursula watches over from the balcony.

And I keep slipping between dreams until I am stuck in between two.

I draw ink from my head and I begin to draw a chaotic grotesque,

Intertwined with my own existence.

And from the half and the half, I am complete,

Like some self fulfilled prophecy.

And I sit by my window looking out at the palm trees that grow outside,

Imagining them in black and white or sepia, recorded into b-rolls,

Wishing for times to stay and making the day last forever,

Lying at the bottom of the pool with seven crystals placed on my neck.

Suddenly I am in the middle of the sea,

Punching holes with my fists into pirate ships,

desperately awaiting Saturn's return.

After all it has been too calm in a while.

My arms are above the sea level and they can't tell,

If I am waving or drowning.

I jump down it to find a black hole and a question comes burning through,

A different shade of red, but whose head this time?

There's a mad hatter in my tub and he offers me a butterscotch,

I suck on it till my teeth fall out.

The glass goes around in an equivalent triangle,

And three mimes follow me around the city,

Lusting after the golden dragon in my breast pocket.

Lights are low and passions are high,

A bloody rose lays among 22 magazines of bullets.

And each of us suck on our words till they are bitter.

A shadows eyes me from the shadows and I wink,

At the one legged ballerina in my glass.

And I begin to pace in steps shorter and shorter,

To make the distance appear longer and longer,

Nothing grows into nothing and now I am going nowhere,

I see all the faces on the covers of magazines,

and compare then to mine on the freak show fly poster,

One minute I am there and the next I am among the crowds,

With mean green eyes and degenerate style decaying into decadence,

Sparks flying, shinning like a lightening rod,

Cold and unsure, like gun metal,

The oracle with opulent vision broods obsessively over my fate,

Did I stay too long?

She is not quite sure where I belong.

Never mind, at least I pull my own strings.

I grow a backbone out of them.

*Hi, Sania here again. This is my absolute favorite piece of poetry by Amir. For more awesomeness and poetry that makes you jealous and uncomfortable and emotionally stunted at the same time, let's request him to make a blog. Please*