i can’t mend things perfectly
like a soothsayer in my vagina
asking to rise- a phoenix of morality
but i cant do a thing flawlessly you see-
i have a thing forsaken to blend
with another skin of my body,
cerulean dreams of raisins and chestnut
i am black
i am broken,
pieces jittered in a jigsaw game
so i can’t cook food for you,
neither i can wash sublime clothes,
naked your soul-let it be ah!
my fingers are flaky,
monsoon in one part of the world-
unrest in a soliloquy of dreams,
yes i bleed while sleeping, morose cryptic ways
yes, i am numb,
sour apple jam to lick and throw.
I am all of that,
like a lotus in the salina.
Skin is music
skin is lyrical,
regenerating faces of loss
and i cling to it till
i drop my ashes to rest.
©Image and words of MVS
Elis has a paper ball texture, crisp and crumpled veins of love. Her nakedness is the march towards the fruits of springs, countless motions of time. Her liquid lips, cryptic to herself. She neatly defies the existence of frailty.
The frailty of summer’s hope and frailty of meadows spring.
The heaviness of swamp and linguistic seizures weighs her down, sinking her hand and arm. Missing parts of reality. A cocoon of dissatisfaction. A body of uncountable heavy eyelids. Elis does not speak of her curves and eyes, she dedicates her body and sacrifices her tongue. Rituals of greys and blacks.
Elis curls up her lips like a slice of burning orange peel. Her breaths, heavy, dissected, summoned like a stone eating her tongue. Her thigh eating her faith.
Elis craves and prays. For solitude to be her only stay.
©Image and words -MVS
sediments of love and despair,
like a dose of a morbid orchid petal,
throbbing in my blue cheeks
my limbs are rooms, small pavements that you rock
small parts, dilating trembling stairs of life,
a star inside a boxed room of loneliness
revolving in the thicket sheets of air,
a haze and a backache.
a periphery of grapevines, strangling
telling me to be naked on the evil plates of loss.
i bite my lips.
i bite my lips.
my body is nothing but a voice of pain
shredding, autumn leaves
a loose fitted, transitory polar air,
cold, crisp and moist like
a surgeon bisecting my legs, my frozen tongue.
and i am nothing
only a figment of blurred smoke,
ashes like a solid piece of rope.
i hear jars of jasmine
in the pale moonlight
singing and swallowing
the day's lie
the fallen mask of scalded hearts.
the night has a belly of jam and butter
smooth, a swamp of blood moons.
a feverish rush of adrenaline,
saying chants to hypnotize.
I hit 3k Subscribers today. Thank you all for showing me your love.
i do not hallucinate time
and your levitating skin
bluish words, bluish eyes of Meraki,
i count the scars on the nape of your neck
infinite scalds of heaven
pulling life backwards and forwards.
You have an impatient mouth
sundial beds of petunia
faltering sheets of sunbathed sheets,
you prick my lips
like a landslide romancing Moon,
I am awake as i fall
i fall and i am awake
swans of a churlish period.
we took needles in our mouth
producing spring again and again.
silver hum of nights
in the orange casket of my ovary.
© Words MVS
Things return like autumn,
with leaves, shades and colours
as your mountain essence
stick to my collar-bone,
in the moments
of nights, haze, dawn.
One by one,
I circle around
and soaked in your fingers
and memories of the return,
this mahogany burns,
it burns as a bay leaf
in segments and silvery parts
I fall into parts,
your demure pasture of lightnings,
your mushy belly button
your mouth of Jasmine
We made love
to grow old together
to be a single fallen star,
we made love for your return
where I am picked and loved,
like a frozen pea,
in your hand.
And, I wait here
for your return
all like a wool,
Fixation to occur.
I am nocturnal today, like roses building up on my arms
speaking language of Gods. The air is turgescent, dripping lust for words. lust for my beauty. I walk on the arch of windowsills with blue loops of eyes, tingling some sensation. Something unheard before. A voice of metaphors dissolving into my pharynx with lids open. To fly. To breathe.
I curl my lips like romancing with my poetry. With silence dancing on my bosom, sneezing and holding time. Swallowing my body. Words, a conjunction of sanity.
Rhythms and molten patterns of pain and loss. Acceptance and free breath.
I look towards the path of Equinox. Voices speaking untamed fire.
Fire and ice. Ice and pure breaths.
© Image and words MVS
P.s- Also I completed my 2 year anniversary on WP. How amazing is that! Though I did delete my blog once in this span, still I am grateful to this community and my readers.
This vintage arm
is like a faded memory
of streaming hope
the greys and the reds
a turbid of morbid dreams,
Scars slid, dancing,
they seem happy.
Scars are my baby now
my hallucinating body of madness.
pain is my adamant bowl of Ganges.
slipping between fingers of sickle.
Moist, melting inside somewhere
scars, you make me beautiful.
©Image and words MVS
i have a body that whizz like a circus
two eulogies of sanguine madholes
clifts and wars of a drunk man
Loss of vision.Loss of words.
repercussions produce hollows
as deep as a cactus.
My knees producing floating amphibians
Slid my copious throat
you will have two minds again there,
savaging my body
like it's a loss of nothingness.
streaming hot heads of loss.
we are threads of abhorrence
erupting from the wrists of time,
a lie perhaps,
emerging like vomit, a hiccup.
Pause the conundrum sestina
and watch the malicious tongues,
like we are sisters of monsters,
slipping time and body's warmth.
Onyx of blank space.
a city of hunger,
and we hang loose
from the perforated sky of wildflower.
©image edited and words- MVS