and all my body is a temple
a temple or a place where i dedicate my sins to bloom into petals.
A hung white cotton thread that stitches the lip,
a mouth so corrosive,
eyes tired of nothingness.
The abstract silence sits upon my chest rummaging through my body.
I feel nothing,
nothing like a bedroom door,
quiet and hysterical.
This is the motion of mundane surreptitious talks, i do.
Do not comprehend more.
I write because of loneliness, tonight
damp torquoise paths
because of uncalld sadness, grinning at my own pain.
i think of myself as a silver figment of broken imagination
cluttered jawlines/ defining rotten choir of vacant sun.
the lips sequines on the pillow to cry further
about the hurt on the knee, circling the entire room of light.
my presence paints a dark star on th e night, tonight
a bloody dark spot.
What shall happen to me next?
The hole that gullets its teeth, will you see me there?
Quite ominous
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Maybe.:)
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Get me indulge in your grief …
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I have my better half. You may mind your own business.
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Sure …You do fall in love with fiction .
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Well mine is a reality.:)
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Oh is it …
Sharifon ki iss duniyaa mein ab hum ..Kahan..Jaaye …Khuda bhi unka ka…Kaise nayin duniya basayen…
I wish I could be the part of your decent world …
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For all that i know, you are a spam. No account. No identity. I have tons of those. No issues!
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For sure I don’t want to spam ..Bye …
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Suit yourself
🙂
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the art of grief poignantly written. So many beautiful lines here, Somedays we live with grief and somedays we find it overwhelming don’t we?
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