poetry

Despair

And the clock strikes 3 a.m
still awake and crackling
pain does that to your mind and lips
it detaches a swirl of orange lust
fixating it to prayers and oxygen.
I become breathless, hard as a tomb of a wolf
how blessed are the souls who breathe effortlessly
The pale air climbs my feet and then my watered bosom
with mirrored stones, some mundane puffs I breathe
And the clock strikes 4 a.m
still regenerating the amorphous conversation like a silhouette
I breathe like a ghost
and the pain ascends further on my black curls, splashing
the pit hole talks and a whirlpool of paralysis.
Pain. Pain is a connection between the living and the dead.
Learn its formation. It breaks you, firmaments of tiny blue crystals.
Envelopes of blue talks and blue hopes stick to this breathless staired body.
Do not draw art and do not juggle stars
Take a long brush and insert patterns of demarcations and directions
I am a moist conversation trying to soak your presence
And this pain comes and goes, my body is now a complete sanitarium.
Oh, the clock strikes 6 a.m


©MVS

64 thoughts on “Despair

  1. This is incredible. I could feel the pain wrapped up in this, the longing to be free of it, and the yearning for peace.

    “I breathe like a ghost

    and the pain ascends further on my black curls, splashing

    the pit hole talks and a whirlpool of paralysis.

    Pain. Pain is a connection between the living and the dead.

    Learn its formation. It breaks you, firmaments of tiny blue crystals.

    Envelopes of blue talks and blue hopes stick to this breathless staired body.

    Do not draw art and do not juggle stars”

    Sometimes, we just need a break from it all. This is stunning, MVS.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Oh my!

      My dear Tre, may I take this opportunity to say how incredibly lovely you are to read my words with such a warm heart.
      Isn’t it painful that we crave for such freedom and that too for breathing. I wrote this as a part of my illness. And you resonated with it. I am sorry but thankful to you in the same process.

      You are a dear friend to me and I wish you all the love.
      Respect.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Kind of insomnia,kind of pain,you expressed how difficult to sleep in nights with thoughts and lot of discomfort in heart..especially” breath like a ghost” shows the pain ,and again you said about pain the bridge between living and dead..how beautiful it is..and especially the line” soaked up in moist conversation” absolutely brilliant..

    Liked by 2 people

      1. You are welcome love 💕 Despair is no stranger to me. I know how consuming the darkness is, counting down the minutes, hours… just to feel sane again. You said it perfectly, “How blessed are the souls who breathe effortlessly” This is something I frequently ponder. Is it this hard for all of us? Or just those who feel so deeply?Sigh.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I am deeply sorry as you feel this despondent feelings dear. Living and soaking inside the memories of darkness is the worst thing that can happen. I wrote this poem as I was breathless physically and mentally.
        Asthma does that.

        Now I wish nothing but happiness to you Dear soul.
        Peace and light.❤️

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I am so sorry to hear about your asthma babe. That is more important than my ups and downs… I hope life blesses us both with light even if it’s within the darkness. Much love to you! ♥️♥️♥️♥️

        Liked by 1 person

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