The Old Body-

with chained ankles, hush, thrilling lips, a body floats inside my mind, dwindling through the carcass, old and vintage- a mahogany river of crooked moonlight, this body blooms and sinks at the same time, uttering a blob of big sun-shaped tongue emerging out, emerging through the stains and walls through veins and puddles. this time…

The existence of an unknown-

Finger’s spread through walls licking the green fear a moist mayhem spreading onto my chest chewing the dead society people give names to my existence a continous dreary process I feel oblong and circular shouts rummaging through the ceiling fire in my neck, movements occur as pulse during the time curtain of this thought who…

Blue velvet sighs

Body of coral sunsets slipping underneath,and I think of your curvatures, silhouettes of water- lotusa heavy mass of flower spinning upon the moon,a daydream and slow night slow as far riverbeds, moaningquick and slow.the fingernails hide a slippery naked climate,fermented by the shiver and body on body dirty tablecloths:dirty walls, kitchen sinks melting awaymelting like…

To all the dead trees-

swim acrossattest the painsink into the lake of griefwatch and convulse, the narration-the blue oblong face of emotions-it disappoints me each day,you and your flatterymy small body,small, petite chin that thrusts no life anymore.Watch a face again,think about it,the slippery texturegrains allover the bodyblurred, overgown opinionsI am sad flower today, trying to be the moonbut…

The sad picture-

It’s about us. Our static atmosphere which keeps changing its dimension. Through the clandestine mouths of river and a dark cloud. At times, there is nothing but a tainted shadow our love growing a thick layer of fungus. We grow, anyway. We grow and talk about the leftover meals, the swollen flowers of our garden,…

a thing of loss

I am coming back to my writing my poems after a while a lot changed during these times. (Pandemic- second wave) My yellow tree remained un-watered all this while, humans burnt, relatives, families submerged with tears/ fears see my poem has started to rhyme, even. Keep on reading you will sense no sensibility a bunch…

Excess- a poem

Napowrimo#2 Not just this: there is excess of daydream floating around, a toothless, opaque body of light what do we name it? A house full of sighs/ gasps/ swollen people where objects assume outlines But who are you? To raise a question? The minute I saw you, I could not escape. On the sea floor,…

A Memoir about Prayers and Healing

Things do not attach themselves to our void, till we allow it to occur. Things- broken, upsetting they instill our hearts and soul with remorse and pain. A haunting truth about liberation is when we clench our minds limited only to the point we think we need it, it never occurs. What about the next…

The Night

And after the things have been quiet,a slow nocturnal pause returnsa pause to collapse again,There is an endless whistling,with a bleached skya bleached portion of the sunsetI can still touch it,the surface of things breaking apart,the nuisance of the blood vesselthe hanging canopy of faces: dry/parallel.The night takes everything within itself,abandoned by all,it has not…

Tales from the dark

the nights shift incessantly between the coiled conversation, about semantics of life the arrival and departure of distilled solitude at a point of growling sleep patterns my words think they are tool to carve to emboss a pain onto the strangers arms about melancholic shifting dreams, the mosiac vintage art my nakedness is a cry…

lady in white

  I know of a lady in whitewith a mouth full of promises,spreading a nocturnal path of flowers,like a longed kiss above the eye,a lady that slips in my chest,within the small rim of my fist,a sniff so wild, a mouth that dwells on mountains moist.a lady with a potato peel,with cardigans and wool on…

A few facts about Loneliness

My loneliness spews from the dark curtains / fevering beneath a molted lampshade, running amidst the hanging treehouse, a sharp blue gong of a temple. Upon the arrival of next month, my tongue develops a sickness,                            I sit I stand                           I sit In a nonchalant abrupt way,           Defying the lucid crispness of…

Releasing this 2020- Crimson Skins

On Dreams

Night breaks apart like thousand skies on Earth with a hint of mauvish whisper the whisper spills everywhere enveloping things around me. Dreams create illusion of being permanent of sticking to the odd times with a mayhem stuck to the air. You would wish to sit and digest each tiny aspect of dreams with a…

The face of a woman

I imagine the day like a face of a woman, the mornings so much defined with exposures and brightness, polaroids of crimson sky and the heaviness comes like her mind, i can paint this lady on my canvas, yawns in the afternoons, doping shadows watching the food vividly left in the kitchen she knows nobody…

What we made out of Memories

Prompt- Forgotten Technology This goes beyond the tampered noises that prevail today silence ruffle under the sheets of abrupt behaviour. If I talk, let me talk to you about the mottled photos of yesterday’s yellow sun a wildflower blooming under my chin spreading across the lunatic nights of hum Death too had come on many…