A poet too insane

A frequent dancing step of memory
so unique and feverish,
an operation of melodious thunderstorms
circulating/ watching a gluey stare
What is that white noise?
A stare, a semantic of laughter.
A cacophony of strange chemicals.
The molten rhythm of steroid heart.

I am blue today, dark blue.
nothing that remains inside excites me,
I am too numb,
with a shred of melted saint touch still wobbling,
too thin,
Nothing that sits here stays.
A nullified happening of life.

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A sedative

I want to quieten my mind
and each day I would count ways to do that.
Popping pills backward / gazing at the starlight
until dawn slaps me all over again.
A memory of death fidgets with my tectonic body.
I become so slow.
slow like degrading with the earth.

I count ways to quiet my mind while writing this poem.
There is a drop of water on my palm which freezes my hand,
like a singular stem of the numb horizon.

Hush, hush, hush.

I see my reflections
dying in the soiled air that slips upon my lips.
Violet and brown.
A colourless dream often.
I want to rest quietly,
with no connections any more

I could stare a small spot on the ceiling
like a moth
trying to endure a lie.
My words are epileptic today
just like me, all wobbly.
I stand here in a sitting position like a lotus,
and my organs defy my breath.
This poem is a bizarre,
try not to comprehend anymore.

A prayer

a prayer so soft
I mumble each time
There is a method I perform my chants
like sticking to the table,
thumping my wrist against my forehead.
I wish to sneeze while praying
to eject sins,
a horror bowl that rests between my toes,
twirling softly and eating me bite by bite.

My prayers are often lullabies.
Muted voices
you scavenge while dreaming.
I pray
and pray
and pray
to sniff a piece of hope.
I do speak in four voices
that swirls my lock of hair.
Goosebumps now.
I repeat my prayers when I am a shadow of a fallen sky
a bird that refuses to watch me.
nature has its way to corner from the human.

Without a shard of primrose,
A scourge of shaved earth.
And I change places
to chant
to sleep
to pray
till I see a circumference of white powder
there, inside my mind
blooming the entire prayer
in colors of myth and violet rain.

 

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Effortless

I have a picture
punctured and ironed inside,
a tale of twin sisters,
rising above your waist
with a pastel grey voice of mind.

The coherence of mute environment,
is like a prayer to me now.
A green straw up in the sky sucking
the chambers to drink nectar of white life.

I have arrived here,
here in the painted head of open mouths.
mouths that utter olive seas.
Here, I gather & loose myself,
a percolating fly doused in a tea stain.

Too many arms now
up in the sky
breaking a blurb of dark howl,
A new slippery existence
a new machanism of conjunction of elements.

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Loneliness

All these years, I have known the distinctive pleasure

of loneliness,

How it rotates it’s straw beneath my tender tongue.

The diaphragm splintering.

and blooming into a void of silence.

Days gone by,

Soiled and fractured bones.

I hear a sudden twitch of my collarbone,

A stubborn slap of liquid clock,

Abandoning this body of goddess.

How does one become a mannequin?

One simply stares and blinks,

Abandoning

the vacancy of emptiness.

Twirling with frills of lunacy,

Shallow& hot.

Hot& porcelain pain.

A feverish stare

Of orange stomach into the sky of violet detachment.

There.

And you become a terrible word in the sky.

A terrible, terrible wound.

counting hours for the doctor’s rush.

Loneliness does that to you,

It seeks a shade into your darkness,

Ladders of ambiguous scars.

A blind engulfed comfort.

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A blue attack

Blue, blue.
My hands leak blue crooked blood.
I tried suicide today.
Walked like a ghost/ a melancholy boiler.

a house that leaks.
wax statues going bizarre.
Bizarre like dissolving inside my hollow stomach.
i am here.
i am there.
A loop of curve, falling on the equinox.
burn this society inside my mouth
i wish death today.
I wish pain to kill my pain today.
blue, blue, this body.
tiptoeing through bones of fumes.
A zebra. A succulent spiral canvas.

Paint it dead.

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termination

Like i wished for a moon today,
this dirt of rocks life throws at me is amazing
amazing to watch the disgusting melting person in bed,
That’s me.

i do nor design this body of mine,
the sleekness, tenderness, whiteness.
At times, i feel i am hollow.
Hollow like a coconut’s head.

i want to stop my brain.
Potboiler. Frequent attacks. Time slapping me again and again.
i want to stop it all.