Tara remembers her doings. The pale kitchen sink speaking of chipped dreams, tectonic thighs of fidgeting swamp. Her lipstick is all nude today. Nude as the man of her dreams, saliva draped carefully between the folds of her lips.
And her purse sliding between her perfect round bosom. She wears sunrise as her makeup, with gleaming colors of a portrait. A hue of morning yawn. Her methods are clairvoyant. She sweeps a floor, performing a geometry to meet her desires, back & forth.
A bowl full of summer rains. Tara is a madhouse, today. Her cotton saree slipping on the floor, almost swaying the mosaic squares of the floor. She runs like a fever in a house. Moist enough to hold and gulp. An insouciant flower of the Himalayas. She would shove all the flickering desires, like the peels of onion and garlic in the bin. Not giving care.
Tara goes off to another house now. Pinning and swirling her hair with a bobby pin once again and she sweeps the floor again. A house so porous. Almost like a slice of starlight.
i watch you sleeping in the coldness nights of eve-dropping
with my vapid blue chipped nails, still gasping for breath,
i watch you like a surrealistic, walking above the ocean
to touch the mouths of lost and valleys of lights.
I turn and twitch on the bed of mirrors,
it has parts of your liquid face
gonging, cracking my lips of butter
i still watch you,
from my heavy breasts to my small hands
like a cauldron of wavelengths, skewered apart
still dropping words of a decayed autumn leaf.
this body is lipids and a segment of cosmic lights
deluged in moist concave conversations,
with oneself, with you.
You call me honey, and I begin to melt
like an Orion of mouths and skins of Gods murmuring.
My breaths slip in the ocean, the sky still succumbed
of last night’s naked love
Breaking inside you,
i wish your eyes of chocolate rain
closed, loved, closed, mine.
Harbour of jolting smiles,
fever, broken radio voice.
all is here,
in my black pitch room,
in my crisp tongue.
And i watch you breathing, singing.
I could dissolve and dismantle both in your arms. Your concave dripping horizon. Here, sweet nectars of a word, alliteration efflorescences. Poultice killing ant-eaten wound. I put my oblong waist inside your palms to catch the last nights fits and sins, sinister. You breathe effortlessly, like a paper chewing the drops of rain, steadily and I watch you smoking naked. I shrink, cinnamon fingers dipped in writing as I paint you in my slivers of lost chills. I see you marking my territory, with hazelnuts and pepper, cracking one by one. You announce me your wild bitch.The galaxy ruptures between your words and my forehead mole. We are all sinners. loss••••
I am awake, in the cauldrons of your magic that rubs my backbone, similar to the mountain ranges romancing with the sunshine. The spikes and fumes drove me madcap when my arm flew in the vapid motionless air. It was your A B S E N C E. The air balmy and dead. I roamed naked and baked naked. with my face sagging beyond the levels of my bosom. It was Saturday and your A B S E N C E. healing••••
And, it is a fixation now. Crystal studded your eyes with my silhouette, marrying my body from that broken pale toe to my hair. I circle and hover my dandelion legs to sense the reality, the sun-baked air filled with our fabled romance and memories. The room is a temple and this is the reality.
Pull me closer to your diamond skin
a place that eats all my molested scars,
in the walls of books and poetry
you shall be my muse, the other half.
of my upcoming poetic line, upcoming splinters of ice,
we make love castles,amidst the dirt hanging like spider web,
Precise knots of commitment are the strongest.
Skin:a reverie of splashing memory,
Something that your lips eat daily.
Turn by turn, inch by inch
we mark each other’s soul
creating geometry, defeating geography.
My collarbone is star dust today,
Ebullient scents from your whisky eyes
expand my artless poetry,
like the writings scribbled onto my library walls,
pink, orange, brown.
Latitude of your strawberry eye in congruence with my winter skin
where a pool of weeds evaporate sinking into the outlandish touch,
A loop of anomalous cogent thread arise in the windowpane of your heart,
I see the Earth, the moon and my teeth cracking your Universe,
For I reside in your skins of skins.
Quixotic eyes that spill the poetic halcyon of star-dust,
like the friction of two naked bodies romancing on the naked moon,
I see you evolving, a robust wild bittersweet flower,
I see your palpable heart, and my lips breathing Skins of Skins.
In the melancholic time,
when the dark howl craws
In the harrowing soils mask,
where the river flow is backwards
I bask in the sunshine,
towards the bridge of memories.
my skin knits
I am sun-kissed today,
like a morsel of apple-pie
sulking on my white bare skin
I am a memory today.
where the sweet honey clings my tongue
pouring my holiness into your laps
I am a pattern to be formed, embellished
I am aliferous today, this moment.
In the encapsulating shimmers of prodigious beautiful skins,
I am a traveller to time zone of your dewy skin
As the geometrical curves make my heart merry,
I count the ways of savouring your skin bites
like fine red sharp thread, threads of love
In the windowpane, I venerate you as my sun,
the Usher of sparkling twilight disguised
as your particle.
Half dawn, half dusk,
your skin is a beautiful myth.
The blithe seaside waves inferior to your footsteps
conjure my eyelids with your memories,
And I feel pepper, salt and sugar.
Your honeysuckle orchid calves
pay reverence to my naked skin.
I breathe the last night fallen star,
scaring myself like your texture
And so I am a basket of infinite part of you.
I am the other you.