distortion in mirror

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,
imperfections,
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

Greys and black

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.

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©Image and words -MVS

NaPoWriMo#6

what remains- time kills

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.

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Moonlight

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.

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I hit 3k Subscribers today. Thank you all for showing me your love.

melting inside your mouth

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,
 surreal.
 I am awake as i fall
 i fall and i am awake
 swans of a churlish period.
 we took needles in our mouth
 stirring
 and shaking
 producing spring again and again.
 silver hum of nights
 dissolving,
 in the orange casket of my ovary.

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© Words MVS

As-You-return

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
 you, infinite-ball-of-love
 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.

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©MVS

Breathe.

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.

Instagram

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Scars of dreams

This vintage arm
is like a faded memory
a corpuscle
of streaming hope
the greys and the reds
a turbid of morbid dreams,
Scars slid, dancing,
they seem happy.
Scars are my baby now
forever, inside
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.

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©Image and words MVS

Uproar

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
 Almost inhuman.
 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.

©MVS

Nameless Face

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

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Co-exists

It sits there
with wallowing lips of seal
parched leaf, rotating.

lives born out of it.
swallowing the sudden deaths,
inumerous threads of bruises.

walls break, people die
like petunia’s deluging sigh
cleaved mouths of love.

wreckage & survival
spilling its flow inside,
duality co-exists.
i splash the black spot,
i smash the black spot.
Madness exists.

©Image and words MVS

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The way it slips

 Life bleeds
with vacuum and spaces,
backwards, a concave slope
mouths of thickening slurps.
it confesses its leakage
each day, puncturing my navel
a forgotten momentum
of involuted threads
of rising and falling.
Life, bleeds and bleeds.
a copious bruise of camouflage.

©image and words- Devika Mathur/MVS

To my other half

i have swallowed the stars
in my tropical mouths of nostalgia,
coping the insanity, wireless tracks
with sweat and ink
ink and tears.
a blush of my cheeks
and seizure occurs
between our wild sheets
our vermilion warmth.

i sniff the old papers
to give me paper cuts,
threading a crisp jawline
point of felicity
& elision of this
moon dust heart,
i walk spherical
fetching your wet lips
wet mouth and language of Gods
i pronounce you my dalliance
& my nails clutter
in your toxin scent.

©MVS

#NaPoWriMo- 22

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This poem is broken

restlessness spits the wall of death
in hunger & pain.
my body rotates like a disc
surrendered sound of music.
tip toed stigma, a struggle each day
insects sound screeches,
this wooden brain,
or an empty space of lovemaking.
call it anything.
say it names, zig-zag platonic voids
plastic belly button games.
sick voice of head.
call it anything.
a flower holds the world,
its a silhouette speaking of a grave.
____________________________________

©Mvs

Anna

Pinterest

matching pink- stained
lips of mirrors
Anna, sew her flowers to the hair
like an oil-painting smiling,
something conjuring about her patterns,
the wavelength, the folds
all magical maybe.
Anna, in her mid 20’s
auburn ductile head & hair
with sheets of transparent
cling film, susurrus body.

almost a year ago,
a wife & a mother
with tunnels of story
sun-flower hands of mercury
now shifting,
her body movements
inch by inch,
in darkness & solitude
a shape shifter,
a fortune-teller,
rose collector,
anna is all of it,
a crooked truth.
you pluck a flower
& the land becomes barren.

®MVS

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A craving

I have a craving tonight
for a slice of sun
or moon- talks, in runs.
to decipher the poultices
hidden beneath and above,
somewhere between your lips
& paradise,i have a craving
for your love
as soft as petals of Petunia
a craving to count you
& your terminals,
your folds of skin.
i have a craving to
melt into you,
with skins kissing.

a craving to burn pan cakes
and smudge the edges against us
like a paper ball dancing,
silhouettes swaying,
to put my mouth on your tongue,
to suck your scars
& to incubate it with my
infinite love.

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©MVS

end of #NaPoWriMo.

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