Soaked lips

these lips utter a pause of lipids
time after after
like a powdery cough.
 they bloom and shatter
 with details,
 wisdom of lush lights
 a fluid, a shade,
 a soft sunset resting on my backbone

Each petal a dandelion of rays,
 imperative words
 upwards and sidewards,
 spitting veins dipped in blue ink
 blue sky...a blue world.
 Porcelain drops of dew
Like lust to wax
A moments of spurring thoughts
Defying existence, one by one.

©MVS
Advertisements

Pointless air-i breathe

what if my entire body is stones and drugs
with a sound of silence
pieces missing, haywire mercury temperature
like a slurp, books in the air.
Breaking monotony, scratching my innermost thigh skin
and bleeding like the blood of sanguine valley.
How many steps do I have to perform?
To be lost.
to be a volatile air.
amorphous, porous
Trees of death define people and deeds
Horrors sit and immaculate in ounces of despair
spick and span, the atmosphere that I carry
or abrasive at times,
I do not know much.
The point is i am bleeding like a lotus in a sink.
and I need closure, sun in the fist controlling myself, sulking my aches.
The eyelids are swollen and broken
with scars running through the table and the wet floor
the point is I am lost and surreptitious
like a dried lemon-peel in the air, aerial.
aerial my body, aerial my legs, a cacophony of that.
The point is, I feel pointless at times, like the sip of wine.
I have visuals down my throat of sleepless nights,
potions and pills
and no face of roses in my garden, holes in the punctured air
i have it all in the box
down my body
down my abdomen
and still its all pointless.

_______________________________________

p.s-I am back with my thoughts. Yiee.

Anna

Pinterest

matching pink- stained
lips of mirrors
Anna, sew her flowers to the hair
like an oil-painting smiling,
something conjuring about her patterns,
the wavelength, the folds
all magical maybe.
Anna, in her mid 20’s
auburn ductile head & hair
with sheets of transparent
cling film, susurrus body.

almost a year ago,
a wife & a mother
with tunnels of story
sun-flower hands of mercury
now shifting,
her body movements
inch by inch,
in darkness & solitude
a shape shifter,
a fortune-teller,
rose collector,
anna is all of it,
a crooked truth.
you pluck a flower
& the land becomes barren.

®MVS


The art

your slurpy mouth holds magic
 to sediment a stoic seed
 of silence, like silence.
 calm shades governing,
 a tip-toed saliva of blank eyes,
 a life kissing a life.

behind your earlobe,
 the sky falls,
 in tunes of carbon
 thick slices of carbon.
 coal romances with fire,
 life exists everwhere.

©MVS

Anna

Pinterest

matching pink- stained
lips of mirrors
Anna, sew her flowers to the hair
like an oil-painting smiling,
something conjuring about her patterns,
the wavelength, the folds
all magical maybe.
Anna, in her mid 20’s
auburn ductile head & hair
with sheets of transparent
cling film, susurrus body.

almost a year ago,
a wife & a mother
with tunnels of story
sun-flower hands of mercury
now shifting,
her body movements
inch by inch,
in darkness & solitude
a shape shifter,
a fortune-teller,
rose collector,
Anna is all of it,
a crooked truth.
you pluck a flower
& the land becomes barren.

®MVS


How I count my soul

a birthmark & a taboo
i am a lavish smile of smirk
you incubated me & my head
with soils of murder and hatred
sins of monster & coal of coals.
to kiss your dark soul
i swim like a starfish,
concurrent currents floating
inside my solitary knee-bone
see it, feel it, sniff it
chop it. chop it. chop it
it Shall again appear with
half sun and half moon rays.

like a starfish singing,
unveiling the balmy metaphors
crooked though plumbed
in your anxious fingers of blood
in your anxious mouth of dirt.


©MVS

NaPoWriMo#24

Madhouse- body

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.

©MVS-words

#NaPoWriMo-20