the itch,
the orange glass ceilings always fail my existence,
an inhuman thing sinks beneath my eyelids
walking abruptly, in patterns unknown,
there are things which makes no sense
a loose river like madness
a loose butter like sky slipping from my white hands,
my hands which are now counting the marks of my footprints
making a spiral knot about this moments,
this momentary void inside of me,
this permanent injuries inside of me.
as everything engulfs everything
the violence in its own chest
the cold murder of my hands
and the body still counts the days left to breathe.
I wrote my poetry book – Crimson Skins out of pain, love, despair. Hope you like it too. Links can be checked out here- IT’S AVAILABLE AT HALF THE COST ON POTHI.:) I have posted the reviews for my book in past posts, check it out if you are skeptical. I would appreciate it.
Crimson skins – US
Crimson Skins- POTHI
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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.
View all posts by my valiant soul
MY VALIANT SOUL 
What an amazing finale to this profound piece. This one had to be read twice.
MVS you never lose your touch.
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Thankyou and yes, would love to get it read by you.:)
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An inhuman thing sinks beneath my eyelids
walking abruptly,
The discomfort that leads too for a reader is remarkable writing. It still hurts thinking about it. Lol
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Yes, I feel so hurt somehow and thus this piece. Thanks for reading. And now I realise , I wrote a horror imagery, perhaps.
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I never thought horror, it felt metaphorical. But the metaphor was crazy descriptive. Just perfect
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“a loose river like madness”
I can flow quiet in your words forever..💚💜
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Thank you so much Shreya.:) I cherish you.
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