i offered hope,
the final gleam,
protrusions of my bone
like sediments rafting.
i offered ignorance,
a slick of tongue,
spitting and spewing nocturnal thoughts
the elbow balances the shades of anger,
with disgust burning like orange lust.
i am walking
i am walking like the moon,
shedding a splinter.
i take this hanging time
and gulp it like a pill,
again and again,
i open my eyes now,
to swallow the feeling of numbness.
an icicle sharp,
unnumbered and undissolved,
moles on my body swell up.
Fever, rage, thirst, migraines.
this is the final stage of observance.
I count the enormous voices,
stranded, circulating and trotting.
olive tears swathed into blood corpuscles.
i am all dissolved now into emptiness.
yet, i am alright
the galloping strides of heartaches
i am white & floaty like clouds.
thick sheets of molasses.
Old lavender strings hanging on my chest.
i am a convex memory of wax.
flashback of old days speak to me,
like vintage numbers,
vintage walls & laughters.
i have a thing with people.
i mark and eat them along with the spaces.
completely. Bones. ashes. all in me,
as i create my nausea myself
dripping down my red lips.
i create and dissolve.
you would burn in waters,
if you could feel my skin now.
smudged dose of love, insipid flaky fingers
this arm hurts now from resurrecting my soul,
streams of rivers lynching my soft neck.
i long for love and loneliness altogether
cleaved moon dripping honey on pale skin.
you kept me breaking, like twings and forests.
sliced ounce of crooked lemon zest, burning.
it kept me hurting yet alive, you see.
i could feel the faulty facets
leaking sideways of my languid arms.
topsy turvy my tongue, this moment.
i am moth, sucking glaze from marigold,
camouflaging dust & bitter taste of you, perhaps.
this is me, this is survival now.
swallowing all that I see.
I wish to say a quick hi to all. I am currently passing through a rough time linked to many things. So, if my poetry is dark or surreal well hello, that’s me. You are free to read or to move away from my blog, but kindly do not be insensitive to my words. I really do not care about the likes or the count. Life is much more than that. Isn’t it?
my latest work published on Mad Swirl can be read here. Also, my poetries will be available soon on many upcoming anthologies. Hope you all still read my words? it’s up to you!
lights on this orange body,
this wood is a proof
my mouth is a squid,
hanging to catch your wet breath.
a fainting memory eats me.
for i am a sucker of bones & heart.
this is a spot of us, darling,
the summery grass of love-making.
i bite my scorched lips,
i bite my tongue to feel your departure,
and i feel hollow as a black spot.
a trajectory of million dreams.
stilness often wraps my swollen body,
and flicks my elongated neck,
until i eat your face, simple & molten.
i am that vase, half- lived.
half floating and it sucks to be like that.
Back at my vintage house in India,
i have a memory dying there on the windowsill, a cobweb formation.
a moth sucking life from another.
there, a cataract lie envelopes my pale body.
i see myself each day hushing this array of
blue stack of migraines.
i disavowal what made my pink- poetry once.
and here i am, twitched and degenerated.
the doors creak like this bone dropping
a soundless gape.
anxiety turns a woman into a liquid flower,
Again, i am an organ supporting my another organ, all alone.
my body is abnormally sensitive.
this mind a warehouse. And often, i walk
like a succumbed thing.
and home doesn’t feel like home anymore.
with my arms regenerating at nights,
to sulk my sins. Moist.
Women hear a falling noise. It savours their skin.
i see you spreading like blob of colors
sunset inside your mouth,
a hundred nights of sickness grows.
somewhere, arms growing like a living room.
mother, your chin spewed chemicals,
on the night I was born.
1:00 am. a night that swallowed both of us.
You carried varicose time on your sickening waist,
like time made you of clay.
and you heard my voice of lace mucus.
screams growing like fingernails.
you said i must grow, where ever planted.
mosaic pieces stuck to my pharynx.
big- boned, thin legged,
i am 26 today mother, i still bleed,
the way you did last night.
am i you? or life is ingested like you
into my system.
i try shutting my eyes,
a thing you detached from your wrist.
the nights during winter are bizarre,
you see everything naked,
the whirring sound as a backdrop
of things never seen,
the morbid, lifeless bed sheets screaming your voice
the broken knob from my gas stove, still clicking.
yellow segments coming off from my wall,
and i hear it all, like never before
a silk in my hand,
there is this couple, moaning next room,
and i absorb it like an art,
lying on my empty anaemic sofa,
I observe my black nail paint chipped yet gleaming somehow
eyes as heavy as thick air,
wrestling for vacuum in outh of tunnels
i think of breeze in autumn,
petrichor entering my womb
i think of anything but winters,
they slice a sickening trauma onto my bosom,
it’s quiet everywhere,
a spot in my iris, stubborn as a stain.
i can prick nakedness like a shadow.
gulping it, watching it till i die of this emptiness.
i understand that feeling of leaking.
an untold truth from your orange laps,
You breathe deeply, like a concave mirror dropping in shreds.
You wish to be gentle, to be soft.
A smouldering aroma that sits quietly on the bosom, nonchalantly.
I understand the pain and the peeling of throats past evening,
You force a dry smile, day after day on your smitten wrinkled face.
I understand how the walls of your lobby appeared,
lost in ignorance,
where people walked in and they left without a souvenir.
You have many branches, girl
smoke on an ashtray, burning still.
You can feel the hollowness of Earth.
the languid smell it holds, it carries us,
we the dead morbid souls.
I understand that lisp in your backbone,
your words burning inside like a leaf dying,
A point of everything comes for everything.
Accept it, girl, you are the voice.
Watch the sunset, you can swallow it all.
perhaps i got caught between your silk fingers,
gently throwing the vomit away,
petals of lips brushing away,
swaying like thunders.
perhaps, i slipped into you
before spring could collapse on my belly,
time sticks too many collection.
i am bloodlust,
caffeine on the stove, incensed.
expanding like perforated sky
only to melt like never before.
a stretch of copper sky,
hips full of smoke & nostalgia.
perhaps i loved you way too much.
give me a moment erupting like shreds of golden mirror,
honey dripped touch,
mouths swallowing a sweet lie of ours.
something like that, but real.