Posts on Vishruth Devan

Red

Fri, 28 Nov 2025 21:53:34 -0500

red’s infuriated,
red’s angry that he can hear red breath.
the clanging pipes above keep red hot.
red hates things for doing what they’re meant to do.
red had a shotgun to his heart,
the pellets turn his face white as a bone.
they left a gaping hole.
he bled red until the roads he walked
were paved with dried mud bricks.
he bled out, and yet he walked.
red loves irony; he hates love.
red would bleed out just to scream inside.
red knows love’s near violet
(red loves grade eight science humour).
grade eight is when red loved himself last.
every year red got redder,
and the world went green and yellow,
and pink and turquoise.
red still stands out,
always stands out.
they can drown red in a volcano;
they’ll see lava boil red.
maybe that is it.
maybe red thrives in pain.
red’s only got red around him all day,
he’d rather embrace the night than not be red.
when the rest of the colors bleed someday,
the city would have more brick roads,
and red will have his company.

Unwelcome

Thu, 19 Jun 2025 23:36:01 -0400

You returned, right on time.
I heard you drown the bassline in my ears.
There’s little left in my world
That can spoil the quiet joy of a late sunset.

“There’s little left in your world,” you whispered
“Notes don’t please you like voices do.”
You’re right, and I missed you.
Unwelcome as you are, you have a voice nonetheless.

I left you back home, only to be haunted now
You are unsettling, yet comforting.
It surprises me when your voice begins to fade,
Like the outline of my shadow at dusk.

Advance

Fri, 07 Feb 2025 03:21:16 -0500

Houdini would be jealous
Of how better an escapist I am,
When the letters ‘Marlboro’ part my lips;
Of how I can disappear into myself.
The crisp current of Coonoor breeze seems foul
When pit against the yellow tar, the coarse air.
My trachea isn’t as forgiving
As I am to myself when I let
The acrid breath of worry out my mouth.

The flame to the fuse
Is rather the flame to diffuse.
The first few puffs are like the comfort
You would find in a consulting room
Problems diminish while they remain
As belittling as what’s left of the ember
Holding on helplessly knowing that I will let it go.
The best cup of tea is nauseatingly unsavoury;
I reflect on the disappointment of my taste buds.

Detachment

Sun, 13 Oct 2024 02:08:34 -0400

I’ve become a slave to outcomes,
Some expected,
Some engineered to happen.
My day runs like an estimation problem:
I search for the best parameters,
I search for the best people;
For gaps to fit in,
For perforations to soak into
Backed by the illusion of need
Seconded by a veil of fulfilment
That would supplant what I have lost.

With my desires stationed at the cockpit,
Decisions braised at traffic control,
I’ve been fairly successful.
Built bridges over oceans,
Built canals over mountains;
I’ve been my own puppeteer,
Applause guiding my movement,
Appraisal calling the tune of my words.

Voracity

Tue, 30 Jul 2024 23:29:53 +0530

Herb in my head, a fruit in my refrigerator;
Voracity gnawed at my teeth.
I gallop towards a field of yellow;
Knife in hand, primed to be stained red.
Cheval de frise engulfed the sugary land,
Spikes of maroon wood with the stench of dry blood.
With remarkable dexterity I cut the fruit open.
My blade lay waste to the barren structure.
The crunch of the scrumptious interior,
The fluidity of the extract,
Quenched my ravenous appetite.
The herb was still in my head;
My refrigerator, however, was thieved of a pineapple.

Amidst

Sat, 20 Jul 2024 23:53:56 +0530

The seats in the middle are preferred least
Devoid of the buzz around or the views outside.
Living in this perpetual state of monotony was not a choice;
To leave, I’m hesitant, I steer away from confrontation.
There are some who do not bat an eye,
But my eyes blink in indecision.
I schedule these mutable events of chaos
But I am stuck in a perennial pursuit of peaceful waters.
My survival is key.