Some people I see these days are like
broken paragraphs of my poetry
with a missing meter and inconsistent gravity
Detonation of disgust pits and addition of volatile
vodka stammers my insipid vision.
Half moon, half-blood, half mouth covered,
like a decomposition of the great Odyssey.
Some people these days are like
Vintage tributes( but unfamiliar, surreptitious).
With a bumblebee of summery sky,
they bite your pure coltish recently built home
Some people these days exists like this
till they tangle your knots into miseries.
How many cuts does it take for a tree to heal?
Beneath the dark trunk of the Cedar tree,
memories and lives are buried
Above that same tree, premonitions of death and twitches exist
Symphony along with words is music like soft poppies
dancing in circles on my bulky breasts, (dripping sound of sweat, wax)
Your lie was my favourite perfume,
I wore that inside my body, like branches opening up, one by one
My mouth is full of water and dirt.
You are standing like a white faded star
full of thunderbolts, recumbent beds of black horizon
sticking to my tender green veins,
Between blank spaces and unsaid words, you existed like a stained-cellar
Bruised telephones, crooked chains of hope
Aligned perfectly under your dark skin,
the bites of ant wakes me up from a deep slumber,
Entwined bones crackles like spider’s great piece of architect
This is when I see, end of seasons
end of river flow, end of unseen Unicorns.
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.