My motif heart breaks
like a pool of ugliness,
Last night’s love, now a vintage memory
how you mock my love, irritates me.
i revolve like an Earth,
sticking to the mollusc
and i fall.
fall like a group of galaxy
wild animals biting my skin
and I see you nowhere.
Nowhere inside me.
Nowhere uplifting my heavy stoned-arm.
You put me on bed
like an Old Wine to taste
till it drips and bursts.
Torrential streams of rivers of insanity.
I weep like a duck.
I weep like a drunk night.
(Soothing itself with its own light)
I weep and break.
You may ask the perforated sky
with drops of atoms
ripped apart from my chest
like the plunged rose, or honey-nectar.
A void in the sun.
A void in the star. Barren faces of slick dust.
And you will see where you left me.
i have fallen with troops of maniac
inside this cold body
disappearing jawbones of sins
and masters of death
residing inside this globe,
the pool of ataxia,
the pool of coherence
with red pale evenings
Abstruse thumbs of broken lines
making me thaw,
cracking on black grounds,
with lonesome stars,
knitting my naked body
like a work of brilliance,
still, i fall this time...
i fall & it hurts.
A mesh of poetry ascends in my scalp of lights
the place punctured by your visits often,
in my nocturnal nights of anxiety and suicides.
You step on to my body, peeling layers
of SCARS\ and you watched POETRY\ C A S C A D I N G
in molten, mountain flush of hours.
I am not dead if that’s what you mean—
There are splinters of time and flower
the raw ageless faces of skin,
goblet eye of evil-
here moon meets sun,
and earth meets my soul
it’s a travesty of you and me
rather than what you did to me.
I have seen the postcards of vintage ink
our lotus bodies sinking like air,
tropical destinations, with kisses side by side
I ate your nails, your fingers, your dirt
defying existence of deads & deads.
Now, my finger bleeds fungus,
crochet of inhuman trepidations.
I still hang you in my mirrors
behind my bed, behind my eyelids.
I still see your insanity
You would bleed mentally,
axis by axis
to know my aching cheeks and lips.
they do not flutter, engulfed in smokes
my mouth, volatile and dark
i am a pattern of transition
disgusted each day,
separation of tongues divides
these breasts once supple,
i am a sliced burning moon
only diced further,
till i dismantle my nerves.
I will die a walnut death— with cracks
and dust flooding my brain.
Penumbra, walls of construction, destruction
black coherent cathartic squalid eyes
numb crooked vertebrae floating
in the liquid air, my body becomes a coffin.
Enfeeble basket of black roses resides in my cracking eyes.
I take a pause, and visit the old creaking house,
haunted and mahogany drooling
over my burning piquant skin,
I feel a co-existence between
the supernatural and the living
Dents of loose threads of hope
circulate, biting my skin, biting my tongue,
biting my amorphous vapours of sick solitude.
I want to weep today, scarring my acidic eye
the hypocrisy, the swollen balls of abhorrence scar me.
I am a vexatious taboo.
How is sustenance a need?
Even the sky dies at night.
I evaporate, disintegrate, amalgamate
only to be a broken piece of an elongated lie.
A box of hidden muse resides in my heart. I try to hear the amorphous murmur the times I am cold in my warm blanket. The smoke and ashes brew a pool of blurry images, my past tales that plunge deep into my veins, unable I am to move. Numb my thighs remain, numb my eyes remain.
My room walls have gone pale, shooting bullets in my mouth, it hurts.
The conundrum scissors mock my caricature, forming turbulence on my ceilings, in my ceilings. Nothing erupts out but the insipid cold droplets of heartaches, drop by drop it falls on my fingernails, burning like ice, cold as ice, that is how numb I float in the horizon of duplex walls.
Like my chin resting on that eccentric needle, swords fighting producing my legs and arms, now they remain silent and here is the time, when the incumbent work is at a halt.
Tonight, I shall rip my mind
bifurcating like thin veins
for I see hot wax resting
on my body,
for I am lips and lips of shooting fire
tonight, I shall cry
and vomit my parched pain
like shattered poppies
lying in the coffin
for dark is my home
dark is my poetry
the inside of poetry is me,
and I am dark as Satan’s eye.
Beyond this cracking wall, in the horizon of that empty dusk,
I walk in the blues of protrusion of my floral cheeks
my mind scratched, my heart stabbed
A partition of a falling star and constellation of stars
a Meraki of a paper boat, if you know
I walk in unknown thorns, small, oval, sweet and bitter
if bitterly waves reside in this moment, I shall conjure my body
with naked dust
And that dust will still hurt my iris,
for my eyes has seen the deep red scar
My flaky fingers hold my hope like the sacrosanct dusk, the better is my mind with the fall leaves, the turpid pick of the smoke, pulling strings impeccably, wretched you say?oh, I am just a maniac wandering on the ebb of tyranny, turbulence and war see the pattern?It’s beautiful though dark.
The puzzles cut my thumb,scars all over the white skin,
nourishing I call it
Jasmine, fresh flowers
the brutality spreads now in my eccentric jovial mind
straight in the pond of sinking lips
the pond of dropping diamonds.
I am no summer breeze. Neither I am a warm blanket to provide that yearning, surreal warmth.
My own soul is shivering, heart sees cracks here and there, Irrevocable my tears are on this pillow.
Fierce, ghost-like shadows perching on my knee joints,
It hurts. It hurts my paradise dreams.
And you say I am ignorant about the moon and its dark howl.
The black petals
On my backbone
Resemble your devouring thoughts,
That cling to
My cheekbones and
In a insepid mundane pattern
Of a dead leaf.