you sit on my corrosive neck and feel the black void spot,
i have bones made of bone-china and a little neck to proceed.
i stand and look for you in aberrant currents,
i split daylight across your arms.
to know the layers of your skin & words
i perform rituals day after day.
A windswept memory tucked between your lips.
a grey memory folded like velvet curtains.
i imagine you in a surrealistic way.
A song to hum, to ingest the threads of madness.
i think of you in moments of cacophony that stich my ears with a soft noise of you.
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..