There are things that I want to protect. Like the oxidised carbon,
like your mouth and my ferocious voice.
My earth shaped body: heaven resist into my temple mind,
like your inundate doses of love prayers to me.
Your sun-kissed pavements, mosaic dreams.
Your vintage lullaby’s while I am a mess.
The sunsets that we adored while we clicked our moist tongues
There are things I want to count time and again.
The hush oceanic fingerprints you carved onto my bosom
The silence that we sank into, the eruptions of sordid lust and galaxies revolving
If I had a red box, I will preserve your words, pictures, stained teacups,
the old mahogany chair on which we did crosswords together
That old whiskey smelling blankets I hid
after you were gone,
I want to count it again and again.
Your white shirts piling on my navel,
like a tropical meadow of white roses
The cold layers of evening when I drank and danced
You kissed me like a newborn baby’s skin,
My abhorrence divided right here,
Till my skin melted, aroused and melted again in yours,
I will count that further and further.
Pull me closer to your diamond skin
a place that eats all my molested scars,
in the walls of books and poetry
you shall be my muse, the other half.
of my upcoming poetic line, upcoming splinters of ice,
we make love castles,amidst the dirt hanging like spider web,
Precise knots of commitment are the strongest.
Skin:a reverie of splashing memory,
Something that your lips eat daily.
Turn by turn, inch by inch
we mark each other’s soul
creating geometry, defeating geography.
My collarbone is star dust today,
Ebullient scents from your whisky eyes
expand my artless poetry,
like the writings scribbled onto my library walls,
pink, orange, brown.
Sun-dried lemon peels occur on my skin today,
For the sky sings dust and hailstorm
The segments of abhorrence and sensibilty play a jigsaw game.
For I have inhuman breaths you gave
on that turtle path of stinking array of roses clinging my soul.
I have heard your sorrows, laments to decipher the unknown
Still I am covered in the darkness of your crocodile shadow.
I cling to your mauvy shadow
Like an auburn Meraki of stars
In the meadows of lust,
In the turbid blue hemisphere
Seeking your Serendipity of breaths,
Brushing your knots of cryptic bizarre kiss
And mixing with my tainted red lipstick.
Swallowing. Choking. Yearning.
A box of hidden muse resides in my heart. I try to hear the amorphous murmur the times I am cold in my warm blanket. The smoke and ashes brew a pool of blurry images, my past tales that plunge deep into my veins, unable I am to move. Numb my thighs remain, numb my eyes remain.
My room walls have gone pale, shooting bullets in my mouth, it hurts.
The conundrum scissors mock my caricature, forming turbulence on my ceilings, in my ceilings. Nothing erupts out but the insipid cold droplets of heartaches, drop by drop it falls on my fingernails, burning like ice, cold as ice, that is how numb I float in the horizon of duplex walls.
Like my chin resting on that eccentric needle, swords fighting producing my legs and arms, now they remain silent and here is the time, when the incumbent work is at a halt.
Dewdrops like sacred groves
twirling on my parched lips,
with lavender Twinings inside
pouring muddle Serenity echo
on the surface of once
the brutality is hidden
lost, in the delights
of frozen warm apple-pie.
A loop of twinkle fields
decorate the darkened corners
of my throat, my white leg
like a partner in poignancy
with fireflies inside the mouth.
with you, I connect the solitude
extending onto my calm thoughts
mending the broken door knobs
and planting a loop of hope.
My wax finger slithers across your extolling caricature
In the Elan black eyes you carry, sun-baked secrets.
Like the winter chills and pepper on thighs cascading
in the solitaire eyes of the mountain, I see your lips
Your smooth, divine lips uttering the catastrophic formulation
Like obeisance of your footsteps in the haze of sultry moisture.
I see you drinking nectar from my sweet neck,
Giving me a basket of rainbows embellished in my navel.
And, with your lips and my dreams,
there is a heavenly comet, a magic potion,
Sunkissed dreamcatchers, succulent winsome bodies.
From a dark hole, no light can be seen.
Darkness eats darkness, to produce more of it.
Sustenance in the trunk of tree
or sustenance in the thunderstorms
will make your body and mind a living zombie
Caricatures shall be burned
smokes, ashes and grave.
Floating fingers, aerial flaps of thigh
hunting red eyes, covetous palm
For jealousy is a disease
In the blues of water,
poke your dizzy reflection— what do you see?
Take a conscious step further,
graphite earthworms shall stick to your sole,
paralysis of mind, paralysis of the heart,
Sickness will eat you like a fire spread
Dead trees also cool down, after the smoke is extinguished.
Through the slices of segmented desire
Where the circumference of my peevish skin expands,
I inhale into the tiny molecules that flourish these numb walls,
Mending a crack,
With a mist of romance,
Point of lust, point of dainty smell of you.
I walk through the ruptures of placcid walls enunciating your presence,
And I peel the rim of this cucumber time zone
Where my legs fall in the abyss of surreal moments of you,
Like clicking of needles, rainwater puddle upon my iris,
As if I were a shadow of your dream.
A dream worth swallowing the darkness,
Just to produce the moon’s composure, a debonair companion.
Incandescent vapours of sunshine,
Forms on Orphic pattern of hope, miseries.
I walk like a daydream, butter on paper.
Found to the known, lost to the soil..who am I?
Imbricated like orange peels,
Stuck like a star-dust to my mundane house ceilings.
Where, roses and feathers caress my faith,
Only to know, this table and burning body is all just a hoax.
The intoxication within is valiant enough to infuse my pen with the darkest of the tales to tell,
My heart is surreptitious at times, hiding even the lamest of smiles,
as I write, the emotions open up like the blooming of bluebells, now I know what all troubled me
The white sheet was dark before my ink decorated it with my diverse butterflies,
The sheet is adorned now conquering the dust, flickering with cuts of heart
as I write, I learn the truth
and so my pen does not break
I write, I write.
My days sink in the pit of dark state of reality
under the quietness of the sky, beneath the tall balmy trees
I inhale my own emotion, sliced and open like oranges
and exhale to deliver the perplexed nerve
sulking into the golden pond
my eyes hallucinate the candles, lanterns
lit in my heart
I regenerate from the scratch of my hopes
Like shining bulbs, a foam of hope rubbing against my throat.
Mysteries like golden shadow, reality like dark ghosts
Vintage my thoughts, open up only to make a vintage web.
Run, hide, seek
or dwell in the bells of a golden canopy
that shall spread the brightness
in the same dark pit.
The black petals
On my backbone
Resemble your devouring thoughts,
That cling to
My cheekbones and
In a insepid mundane pattern
Of a dead leaf.