A thing unknown

self

Rugged and stained like diamond pieces
Equinoctial beats and wet lips,
This darkness bites my sour mouth
with injections and nerves of seizures.
Hymns and flavours of sharp projections
Contoured and well defined
Smirk. Like a swamp of poise.
Eternal Black Spot.
The ink parts my foot and declares a War
With swirls and prowess for moisture
and a supernatural belief.
It’s madness or total anxiety.
It’s a full stop. Rubbing my tongue
I see my eyes, the mirror work and the stones.
I see it with a thread of wool and deductions of logic.
Magic. Fireworks.

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my valiant soul

A dreamer and a believer for the upliftment of women rights. A published poet, author, writer. Believes in dancing and cooking amazing food for hungry souls at times. Loves to write and write till the moon is satisfied. My writings can be found at Visual Verse, Indian Periodical, Sick Lit mag, Duane's Poetree, Thistle magazine, among various others. Curator of Olive Skins.

22 thoughts on “A thing unknown”

  5. You come alive here:
    “Contoured and well defined
    Smirk. Like a swamp of poise.
    Eternal Black Spot.
    The ink parts my foot and declares a War
    With swirls and prowess for moisture
    and a supernatural belief.
    It’s madness or total anxiety.”
    The poem breathes. It’s pointless not to recognize it. This is superb, MVS!

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