lights on this orange body,
this wood is a proof
my mouth is a squid,
hanging to catch your wet breath.
a fainting memory eats me.
for i am a sucker of bones & heart.
this is a spot of us, darling,
the summery grass of love-making.
i bite my scorched lips,
i bite my tongue to feel your departure,
and i feel hollow as a black spot.
a trajectory of million dreams.
stilness often wraps my swollen body,
and flicks my elongated neck,
until i eat your face, simple & molten.
i am that vase, half- lived.
half floating and it sucks to be like that.
” I am terrified by the dark thing that sleeps in me”- Sylvia Plath
Cluttered, torrential nights of stone sinking throat,a huge titanic of this time,
my sheets turning into white ghost,
a ghost of you,
my words that were never said.
You, the lantern of chipped nights,
A mesh of annihilation.
You come and perch on my dreams, like satan a missing subsisting eye or a lip. Time kills me before you make me dark, dark as my old rusty windowsill,
with a dying flaky dream.
this thing inhuman wraps my skin of lemon peels
my skin of words and reverie.
my darling skin…
( continuous screams of inexplicable pain, now/)
scissors of tongues missing
like threads sewing volcanoes.
And my lazy tears twist my body like valleys.
I sip pain,
i see pain.
I hear and live pain(patterns corrosive)
With footsteps entwining my jawlines.
A narrow gauge of breaths and pool of sadness
this moment does that abrupt epilepsy to me,
this dark hollow night,
underneath the white sheet of smiles,
a monster hides.
Each day is a delusion,
my words and poem a levitating hue of cry.
The modal of life explained in a Polaroid,
i might die writing this last piece,
softly, like autumn i shall moult,
into a panorama of white skin
hanging loose, pale parchment paper.
a breathless wildflower of atoms falling.
a cold sliver slap of time,
i sense darkness, in a pool of parched lips,
eyes shut, heart shut
limbs shut, mind shut.
and there i am
a wallowing question of an existence,
kneading a rope of knot
Once again, i walk in portions,
an adamant sustenance of life..
My voice is a purgatory lie.
a solemn inhuman thread of existence,
the voice of this teeth crackling,
fingers going numb during cold shaky nights.
moist, stinking, moist language of nights.
A honeysuckle stung of a tear marking my white body,
flowerless, wavelengths of blurred nights again and again
you come and sit inside my skull,
you will perhaps have boneless maps of jitters.
And humans stink.
they stink like an abrupt old fist.
Mouths of dry saliva. Hollow and hopeless.
A frenzied attack of humans is like the orange peel.
you wish to unveil the skin,
it pokes your eye like a stencil.
And my mind talks to my heart,
in endearment still unknown
of soiled tattered sheets of oblivion.
i sit outside in the incensed moon,
galloping my swallow droplets of fear,
a knuckle breaking knuckle,
what’s the fear of this cricket chirping?
the modals of life.
these hands are burrows of islands,
small and large, a heightened hue of black spot.
I sit and inhale the ambiguity here,
the cracks on the white wall,
plants dying, plants blooming.
Regeneration is about loss: life a flat truth.
These fears came streaming like disguised prayers,
cinnamon hands become prayers often.
I sit and break my fingers,
defying cellophane face of morbid love
over and over and over.
i sniff the air and hunt.
I hunt like sunflower, killing the weeds of infestation.
murdering the portrait scenic chins of nothingness.
i defy times at times.
I wake up like a morose light, struggling to die again.
Like hurricane to lost voices, burning alongside with bare chest, bare hands.
cease and demarcating the thousands of muted language
gushing through my spines and eyes,
My widowed palms are oily, lavender diffuser emptied.
and i perch on the laps of a sleepless blue continent.
This sacred feeling is like a giant whale, eating me whole,
rubbing between its bleeding hands,
distort like a lake, a sky of colourless beams
and hearts set on fire.
I twist in my body more and more,
a little more, into this dreamless barrier of pause.
The spun of itch, the scars.
the flat rooted chest- all like a flower now,
i flex my knuckles to count the bones, hallow sinking chunks of skin.
this pain is a flat horizon of a flower.
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.
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.
a voice is creating a map inside
breaking my legs, my arms
into the eye of nothingness
i see nothing.
i feel nothing.
my lids are dropping day by day
i considered rescuing poetry,
the pale fonts, tampered words
and it ate me, slurping mouths,
Vermillion floating mirrors,
stuck to my lips
and cracking the pain
on the floor for you to dance,
it’s a pattern.
it kills and kills
obdurate music of pain.
such coldness slipping,
stopping the clock of gods,
speaking or praying.
this coldness is chilling
with a hint of a lone heart.
i die here.
©Image and words-MVS
My nights are inked
to the soiled sheets of tears
where the callous jaw bleeds inhuman poison,
or a thing pale as your heart
i sew it up to my nostrils, cold
the fragrance, shrieking my inside pits,
its dark, like blank spaces
Everything seems to be a show- off
your hands, your lips
my intelligence to care,
the nights turning them into molten pieces,
i die and become a ball of clay,
stuck to my body,
a parasitic drop of blood.
And there i lie
all dead and black,
with hemisphere dwindling,
and mouths missing
white thick slurp of warped words,
darkness runs in my heart,
like a lighthouse to my dreams.
I tried closing my pale eyes, like a water-chestnut dipped in currents and oceans
to put some relief on my maniacal themes, running like a sleep- walker. I converge, and dilate like music of light to imbue the monotonous sickening truth of your eyes. The sickening and sickening and sickening spit of your mouth.
I know it’s your zig-zag thousands salts of despondency, blur like a haze or an abstruse hook of pills and lies. Is it too bad for you? Or you want to dissect my ribcage, with a shovel of time. Spandex face, your smile a myth. I want you to change the sheets of my bed, change its theme and its moist forlorn tales. Could your reverse the pills and dig a choir of bursting waves of illusions & smear the sunken hope on my lips of mirror? They might crackle, if you run. They might become a figment of silver sound, lost yet found. Could you reach me out?
Like oil- dyed bodies collapsing and wondering. Like valleys & wine sticking to the mountains. Could you see it?
Your belligerent electric eyes
of swamps and tea bags
like vapours & death
picking my hair strands
to dissect me further,
oh you, mouth of monster
& shadow of half-naked moon.
i lie on my bed & count my reverse
motionless screams, words, screams
here in this room of death & poetry.
chapters of skin peeling, numb iris,
transparent lips of missing skies
i forlorn my ankles
of you and me.
and shiver the scoundrel body.
for this body is a madhouse.
like a concave arm of wax
dripping insanity, clocks
bells and words crooked-pungent.
I’ve been ripped and raped
with ferocious water ripples,
Blood- bookmarked souls
rummaging through my skull
black&grey, still, molten.
The people are stale and ash
clicking wet tongues
dipped in morgues
and shadow of the death
With spits of fungus and moss
decoding their faces of hunger,
the world is a shit hole
anger and anger.
This place is a hoax
and a drop of glinting blood
on your chin,
on your hands,
on your rose opening.
The violence eats you
mental brewing of skulls and cracks
and this polka dot frocks, skirts
ripped and raped.
You would bleed mentally,
axis by axis
to know my aching cheeks and lips.
they do not flutter, engulfed in smokes
my mouth, volatile and dark
i am a pattern of transition
disgusted each day,
separation of tongues divides
these breasts once supple,
i am a sliced burning moon
only diced further,
till i dismantle my nerves.
I will die a walnut death— with cracks
and dust flooding my brain.
P.S-I did not take care of punctuations, deliberately because i was too lazy to do it. And i do not care!
These circles of fingers
and skins and bones,
and something beneath the bones,
rub rub rub
something beneath the thoughts of thoughts
burns, and sins and sins.
Crooked dripping lies,
exhausting this naked galaxy
heaviness obviates fireflies
thoughts thoughts thoughts
Stinking and swelling,
I am a pause.
P.S- I might have missed writing on WordPress yet my insta is updated with the challenge.
You must be logged in to post a comment.