These lines, mahogany smell
Orchid base— prediction,flavour.
A loose arm of sky swings
inside my bowl of emptiness.
The colours dim and the henna evaporates
It criss crosses my legs and eats up my entire body
A parasite. A swollen body.
I walk in the room and the razor cuts sharpen
Folds and pattern twists the softness
and corrodes the dewiness.
A slice of Death iterates here,
Something still at pause ( no gerund, no punctuation)
I think again
about this life,
I walk again
in the pits of life.
I am a liquid naphthalene ball.
Round and white. Evaporating each day.
thriving from square to square.