A rescue poem.

i come to places where i can stich a notion to my entire body of chemicals.
Strange things happen here.
A women die each day/ there are ways and methods for it/

a loop of sorrow sinks like an abortion.
And a mist encircles my eyebrow, like a wide corridor collapsing.

i visit places that connects me to a numb mind.
I ask a numb air to swallow my left arm,
for it knows the bends and the geometry.

Often, I collect marbles/ potions/ circumstances that live like a vein inside me.
I fix things.
fixing like a plumber of times.
beneath the archaic tenderness of joy,
a butterfly evolves.

a blue coloured life dripping from my body
my breast,
my entire smouldered body.
i drip and collect myself all alone.
each night.
each night.
each night.

The dissection of women.

_________________________

Words and pic- MVS

 

 

 

38 thoughts on “A rescue poem.

  1. Breathtaking; imagines melting into feelings; feelings like hurt birds on a lonely shore; “I collect marbles/ potions/ circumstances that live like a vein inside me.”
    The coup de grΓ’ce at the end: “The dissection of women”
    Your words haunt me.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. “Often, I collect marbles/ potions/ circumstances that live like a vein inside me.
    I fix things.
    fixing like a plumber of times.
    beneath the archaic tenderness of joy,
    a butterfly evolves.”this is one beautiful group of imaginary that i loved..nd other lines.which i really loved were..” I go to ppaces that connect to my numb mind” and also i collect myself all alone..πŸ‘..as always lovely.

    Liked by 2 people

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