Chop, turn and locate. Stir the dust and sniff the page No, do not gulp right now. Halt and watch the words flossing amidst the golden page there, a wire of tangent imageries, a sharp tooth that slurps the pain wiping faded things, blossoming into a new Earth- No, do not stop! A word you mis-spelled, just like the rotten limbs of yours a field of moth & moss, scratch the page, prick the word again now scratch your face & swollen head Yes, there...almost. Think. Think. Think. It roams and gossips a false hiccup a false person into your thinking But it does not make sense yet, as is this poem to you. An empty hallway a barren seed and faces of pale glamour. So how do you read a poem now? Do you make love to it or watch it getting naked moist as a Sunset charm? I suggest you chop, turn and locate this poem.
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.
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