Last Single Existence

I am silvered and stickered
in the blue’s of despair
hunting my scalp
down to the ankle stain,
recidivating, collapsing
For the roads are a summer breeze
tropical, slapping my coarse breast
the humming is repetitive.
like insanity clicking
Artless.

Viscous walks defy my extinction.
The roars and shouts, scrapping my last
single bit of blood
my last single ounce of sleep.
my last single mouth of chalks and blackboard.

©MVS image and words

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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.

29 thoughts on “Last Single Existence”

      4. I am not offended in any sense Devika. But I just feel it’s a bit premature for that . I respect and admire your work Devika and I am sure you are a wonderful person. If it was just a random gesture the ya it felt weird, but if it came out of some sisterly affection I take it as a compliment.

        In any case, I still see you as a great artist and a wonderful person :). Cheers

        Liked by 1 person

      5. It’s completely okay. I have no problem in addressing you as Siddharth . I have a bad habit of stating bro to almost all of male readers but then again I need to see the comfort zone also.
        I am really grateful to you and would call you as Siddharth only.
        Peace out!:)

        Liked by 2 people

  2. For the roads are summer breeze
    tropical, slapping my coarse breast
    the humming is repetitive.
    like insanity clicking
    Artless.
    Such lovely lines depicting something almost disruptive, if not sad. Only you can manage to make the artless aspects look so beautiful.

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  5. Nice one..short but wrote in your style..sticking into blues of despair was very good line..and the line you wrote about hunting from scalp to down the ankle is also very good..but highlight of the poem was artless analogies you used “For the roads are summer breeze
    tropical, slapping my coarse breast the humming is repetitive.
    like insanity clicking
    Artless.” This is nice…what I understood was , the person was thinking that she herself is in distorted form with all the distress,adding to that this world and life is showing the more negativityto her..and then you expressed neatly about last ounce of sleep and last bit of blood..loved that

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