Sojourn

i talk to the breeze
like a hum
in my dreams,
a dreamcatcher
or a foot in my mouth

apparitions, colourful
violets in my system
my jaws sing your name
in the timeless mirth
of ginger talks
of lotus love,
blooming in the dirt

Stay my love
to be stitched
in my memories
that still crave for stars
hands swinging
like lost in the air.

Stay my love
inside my loose septic nostrils
fill my loops
with dews of hiccups
stains, absurdity
stay like a poetry
and sing rhymes of sorority.

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Pause

Strangled knots of colourless dreams,
 poking the inside of my mind
 smooth as a lullaby
 dark as your sins,
 it's a mercury dropping a dust
 into the mole of my face,
 melting, fidgeting
 with your callous hands,
 your callous words,
 the dirt is what stops the heat-
 The dirt is what fades a star,
 and the monsoon stops at once.
©MVS

Shut down

I find no motivation here, things are abrupt. My writings have ruined I feel. Call it a writer’s block or whatever the fuck, I just don’t feel like writing and my creativity has been literally coiled in loops now.

I might close by blog, I might not. But surely I know, no one cares!

Peace and light to all.


A vintage truth

Image result for vintage photos

Photographs are blurred memories,
 of faked, chipped, plastered walls
 cracking like walnuts,
 eating its own body-
 Walls & bones dissolving
 inside the tooth of dust,
 memories can be fatal,
 if picturized or vandalised.

All memories collide inside flaky cheeks
 producing abhorrence of stars,
 photographs stick
 like a parasite
 to your naked soul
 & exposes the flimsy spots
 of your entire galaxy.
 Like the black spots
 of a beautiful bird.
 Wax droplets memories afloat.

I carry spring & children

Image result for mothers vintage
i have a tongue of colours
with rooms of spaces,
mapping you & me.
A Polaroid stitch of sinking,
like bubbles
erupting in my hollows
of womanhood,
i have an eye like the sky-
drugged, fuller lips
with ashtray of hopes,

I spin in my own body,
toes kissing head
heads going missing-
like a reality fading,
Is it a kind of operation taking place?
Anxious hair fanning my tanned skin,
I carry children & autumn
both sleeping in my dreams,
like you-
you faggot skinned- mammal
and you smirk my Lilly shadows
as always.
as always.

Time&You

Related image

I was the one
with bruises and stones
in my mirror-eyed reflection
a reflection of you, mother
the cacophony of time and hours
floating inside your eyes,
the heaviness of pebbles and rituals.
Your arm mocked your cerulean breast,
with its swollen stigma of memoirs
and some pictures, vintage.

I combed your concave mouths
of dripping forlorn fractures,
like a staircase bleeding
or a topology reversed and processed.
I am a soft song in your black-knitted bun
a piece of your chipped nail,
a sunflower, kissed and harassed
inside your turbulent head.

A cauldron, and a day full of nights
hid beneath your muffled chin,
a mole hanging beneath your shouts and dim- dreams.
Mother, you are a pool of madness
and a point blank.
Obscure, shadowy your tongue knits tears
and a sweet thread of touch, impeccable.

Sometimes, I glint in your orange censure
a pattern of love and you,
Your body is a dream.
and I fall in your loops of laps.
the uncontrollable seizures,
the uncontrollable laughters,
Scarlet red wires.
it’s all you, it’s all you.

®MVS

NaPoWriMo#15