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.
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 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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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.
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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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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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.
