The High

The High
by Tilok Adnan

We're on an extravagant high
We'll rush this and look for more
Mountains of our own making
Our facades sculpted by visuals
We're leaders of our own domain
We're etched in the system and
This is our identity:

We're figures who run on dopamine and cortisol
Black mirrors in our pockets and hands and homes

Dark mode on for endless scrolls
Car horns don't phase us
Our mothers' calling don't get through
We're all in it together
Abundant with thoughts
We're on an extravagant high
To each his own

To Shaira of Trees

To Shaira of Trees
from Tilok Adnan


I saw a tree -
Rigid at her roots
Strong at the branches -
Who let the wind sway her leaves

With such firm ground
She is benevolent enough
To be let weathered down
Unafraid to lose her crown

I saw a seedling, only 23
Reaching closer each day
To becoming a tree
Adamant that she will be

I feel obliged to let her know
Of trees sturdy and old
And what they have told,
"Growth unfolds when letting go"

Manic

Manic
by Tilok Adnan

My brain is louder than my speaker
There is no volume control.
Only when the music fades
Or late night baritones begin their shows
Or the transmission is too short in length
To reach the undesired location I reside to
Do I feel that my world is vast, at war, and decaying.

Living, to many, means to make the most in mirth
To see, to travel, to sex, to dance, to revel.
Would they know how to navigate
     the crowded ballroom inside me;
Would they know to leave when their partners have gone?
Would they know if it weren't a dance floor anymore,
Misshapen street views, dark forests, or aquatic depths instead?
Would they know that I live every day
     living with a manic inside my head?

Growth.

Birth. 

Growth.

Yes. 

No. 

Growth.

Good. 

Bad. 

Growth. 

Good.

Bad.

Bad. 

Growth. 

Bad. 

Bad. 

Bad. 

Good. 

Growth. 

Bad.

Growth.

Understanding. 

Choose.

Good. 

Bad. 

Bad.

Bad. 

Bad. 

Growth. 

Good. 

Growth. 

Bad. 

Growth.

Quiet. 

Stagnant.

Helpless. 

Good. 

Death. 

Indication

Indication
by Tilok Adnan

Your one word replies to my texts
are indications of a demon
let loose from the deepest trench
of the sea beneath our landmass
and soon the earth will tremble
in its wake, forming mountains
so I'll know where to draw the line.

Words

WORDS
by Tilok Adnan

I like thinking about words
They can be unrelated
But if played with well enough
Everything fits together
Like a dog on a bitch,
Our friends from different niche cliques
Who come together and instantly click

I am thinking today about the words
Guillotine, and Gelatin
And Pelicans,
Melanin, Mexican,
Medicine, Paroxetine 
All irrelevant

But two hydrogen and one oxygen
Can come together to form water
A reaction so elegant
I'd use that to wash
The blood of a beheaded pig
And turn it into an ingredient
By combining the collagen taken
From the fish that are often
Food for wide beaked birds with
Fat throats and this concoction
I'd use for cosmetics
And I'd market it to insecure women
With dark skin so that they can
Look closer to brown North Americans
Who pop pills on a daily basis -
Often for their mental health -
Mood stabilizers and antidepressants
And all of this is a far fetched thought
Far from relevant.

Tranquil

Tranquil

by Tilok Adnan 

Tranquil.

Beautiful blues with golden hues

Cemented shades of grays beneath my feet

Sun above and moon below

The gravity a bit lighter than home

Though

This is home

Pots unattended to organized

Neatly placed side by side

Irony is beautiful

This is home, though

I enjoy the looking at the pots

Trying to find new angles to see them from

Dried up plants withered like my interest for activity

As below so above 

Shaded blacks to pitch black patches 

Grayish blue with dark, dark hues still

Tranquil.

Everything is a Color

Everything is a Color

by Tilok Adnan

Everything is a

color if you

think about it

close your eyes

and try to 

touch on the

feeling it creates

when you hear

its name named 

so aptly each

one word and

why not two

and if the

blind have never

seen with eyes

all the colors

we know do

they still feel

a certain way

about these abstract

words and do 

they know black

for what it 

is to us

those who see

and i will

elaborate or try

let me ask 

you what color

you see when

you hear the

word blind and 

tell me it

is not black

tell me it

is not a

feeling you crave.

Untitled

Untitled
by Tilok Adnan

A frosted, sliding door
waits to be slid opened
and in the darkness a shaft
will spotlight the body

Opened, your head in a frenzy
the mind intoxicated for life
a rope wraps at the torso
just tight enough

Your body is heavily tugged
and your windpipe plays
the tug of war
and the wailing will win

One moment
something can exist
for fifty-six or so years
the next, it is rotten

Had it rotted before -
then, had no one noticed -
who is to blame
(because surely the fault is heavy)?

There is no time for mulling
until the cradle is dug
until the funeral is over
the paperwork is collected

The loans are returned
the moving to somewhere new
the charity and prayers are offered
and your new home is home

Then you find the rest of your life
to question who killed who
and the rest of life
to see life change

Some days are darker than others
and some are brighter
radiating newer life
but what has left, remains

At times the tugging recurs
your torso is pulled out of bed
your windpipe breaks through
and the wailing wins.

Vent

Vent

by Tilok Adnan

The sky is a _________.

Fill in the blank with a cliched metaphor. 

I'm rooting for you. 

I came to the roof for sanity's sake

Because the walls around me

Although the brightest white

Seem darker every other day

White florescence, too, fades

The internet is a curse

A home for spastic brains

If you all know so much

Stop talking about the sky 

Being a womb or

The bloodstain from your period or 

Your mental canvas
Etc.
Etc.

Stop

Writing

About your mother's traditional beliefs

About your womanhood being questioned

About you being a f****t 

About your complaints

About every other thing 

Insert 

Exclamation

Copy

Paste

Copy

Paste

Copy

Paste

It's okay.

I'll find myself 

My own, secret, metaphor to the sky.

Stubbed [revisited]

Stubbed
by Tilok Adnan


This is a drag;
the thought -
the whiff of billowing
smoke trails
however minute
is a titan that pulls
at my limbs.
I have never felt
so torn; toasted -
roasting myself for
my own habits.

An addict for the small,
fleeting crackles
that remind me of
conversations.

An addict for being the observer,
observant of my surroundings,
contemplating philosophies
of the every day
man.

Filtered.
Butted.
Stubbed.



Editor: Shaira Afrida Oyshee

Ascension

Ascension 
By Tilok Adnan


Ascend
Beyond the lament of men
Beyond the shackles of time
Beyond the inevitable fate of life

Youth is a gift only to those
Who suffer in their old
And age is a myth that is told
A product to be sold

In time you will know
That all men must die
And others must carry
The burden of prior souls

It is useless to be weighed down
Do not tread lightly, let heavy heels fall
May the dust scatter around you
May the rocks shatter beneath

You must break ground
If you will to be freed
Only if you will, you will
Ascend.