A kind of guy

• He's the kind of guy who'll spit at you through his broken teeth after being punched in the mouth. 
• He's the kind of guy who won't hesitate to light his cigarette with a deep at puja. 
• He's the kind of guy who sticks to honesty tighter than Gandhiji to our currency.
• He's the kind of guy who'd say "Fuck you" when you sneeze.
• He's the kind of guy who holds your hand and doesn't leave despite sweaty palms.
• He's the kind of guy who does things his own way and often gets lost.
• He's the kind of guy who doesn't give a damn about giving a damn.
• He's the kind of guy who neither sleeps down nor wakes up.
• He's the kind of guy who pretends to be someone he is. 
• He's the kind of guy who laughs aloud at the universe's plans.
• He's the kind of guy who abandoned poetry before vice versa could happen.
• He's the kind of guy who gets inked just because he has skin. 
• He's the kind of guy who has little money but rich enough dreams.
• He's the kind of guy who doesn't chase local trains anymore.
• He's the kind of guy who avoids looking into your eyes lest he breaks down.
• He's the kind of guy who loves everything that won't ever return the favour.
• He's the kind of guy who seeks sincerity in cinema but is OK with its dearth otherwise.
• He's the kind of guy who is an idiot like you or me—and knows it too.

Unfinished verses

Once upon a rhyme, there was a poem waiting to be written. So many things happened around it but nobody came close to finishing it. Perhaps the literature was conspiring against the poets. Whatever be the excuse, the poem never got penned in its entirety. Since it couldn't fully take place, it couldn't fully die either. Immortality stayed out of question. As an aftermath, it remained hanging somewhere in the middle. For what words are worth, it still is. The world seems to be falling apart and whatnot. But it is yet to fulfill its destiny. Something doesn't feel right but who's to blame? And everybody in the room is leaving happily ever after.