Lets cut your molten mirror eye the pain of anguish and beauty. Paper crux. Purgation and names Chalice of age, A timeline. A loophole. Eutrophication of breaths. Missing smiles of Ganges. A longitudinal filth. Memories of a cactus walk. A deluge. You have the eye to smirk bodies floating like ghosts you splinter the seed of skins, partitions of mind like a river from Thar. Oculus occurring, ravine crux of silhouettes. Damn! You mirror of molten eye. Loosely inspired by Sylvia Plath's - Mirror ©Image and words- MVS
I am nocturnal today, like roses building up on my arms
speaking language of Gods. The air is turgescent, dripping lust for words. lust for my beauty. I walk on the arch of windowsills with blue loops of eyes, tingling some sensation. Something unheard before. A voice of metaphors dissolving into my pharynx with lids open. To fly. To breathe.
I curl my lips like romancing with my poetry. With silence dancing on my bosom, sneezing and holding time. Swallowing my body. Words, a conjunction of sanity.
Rhythms and molten patterns of pain and loss. Acceptance and free breath.
I look towards the path of Equinox. Voices speaking untamed fire.
Fire and ice. Ice and pure breaths.
© Image and words MVS
P.s- Also I completed my 2 year anniversary on WP. How amazing is that! Though I did delete my blog once in this span, still I am grateful to this community and my readers.
we are threads of abhorrence erupting from the wrists of time, a lie perhaps, emerging like vomit, a hiccup. Pause the conundrum sestina and watch the malicious tongues, like we are sisters of monsters, slipping time and body's warmth. Onyx of blank space. a city of hunger, and we hang loose from the perforated sky of wildflower.
©image edited and words- MVS
Life bleeds with vacuum and spaces, backwards, a concave slope mouths of thickening slurps. it confesses its leakage each day, puncturing my navel a forgotten momentum of involuted threads of rising and falling. Life, bleeds and bleeds. a copious bruise of camouflage. ©image and words- Devika Mathur/MVS
if my fingers break with the timeline of chiselled cheeks of lust for words of hunger for hunger if turquoise veins open up, longitudes of the fallen mind like the rupturing of seeds without a sound, a mindless game What it shall be called? the itch on my legs on my lips of words, a lover of minds click: and a word appears like a magic or a sonogram What it shall be called? My cleaved mind or the love of broken nails. ©WORDS- Devika Mathur/ MVS
Strangled knots of colourless dreams, poking the inside of my mind smooth as a lullaby dark as your sins, it's a mercury dropping a dust into the mole of my face, melting, fidgeting with your callous hands, your callous words, the dirt is what stops the heat- The dirt is what fades a star, and the monsoon stops at once. ©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.