Loneliness

All these years, I have known the distinctive pleasure

of loneliness,

How it rotates it’s straw beneath my tender tongue.

The diaphragm splintering.

and blooming into a void of silence.

Days gone by,

Soiled and fractured bones.

I hear a sudden twitch of my collarbone,

A stubborn slap of liquid clock,

Abandoning this body of goddess.

How does one become a mannequin?

One simply stares and blinks,

Abandoning

the vacancy of emptiness.

Twirling with frills of lunacy,

Shallow& hot.

Hot& porcelain pain.

A feverish stare

Of orange stomach into the sky of violet detachment.

There.

And you become a terrible word in the sky.

A terrible, terrible wound.

counting hours for the doctor’s rush.

Loneliness does that to you,

It seeks a shade into your darkness,

Ladders of ambiguous scars.

A blind engulfed comfort.


Check out my latest poem here on tasthermind.com.

when i die-

you will find ink blurb, parched words,
acoustic in air,
a hot burning potpourri
and my ink romancing with words.
this is what i will leave when i die-
a torn cloth, stinking souvenirs,
words like thick and sick stick to my tongue,
a concave road of anxiety on my wrists.

for i had no people in my pockets,
i had no eye contact,my conversations with stars
made me fall in love with the moon,
and its dark now, nocturnal love.
nocturnal soul.

You can taste pain like this

Pain. The most inexplicable beauty of humans. Masked and tattered. Orange peel-like surface. As you begin to walk, you feel the blurb of suntanned skins. Lack of juices. ShOrtening of breaths. And there is this pain, gazing your throat. Knuckles break, like the liquids of body evaporating.
Rancid platter of nostalgia. You try to walk away and so you pop pills.
splashing your face with haze- with a spot as black as a pupil.

It has a demure, an oval semblance to shadows. Silk eyed folds. Beneath the nocturnal facets and crevasses, you leak just like that. And you leak until you begin to daydream. Until you are broken and unpleasant to taste. Your juices stink. Your pool of paradise is dried up. Here comes the itch. The itch to bend and smell the distant whiff of loneliness. What does night eat after its done pleasing? Pleasure ends like that.

Unease

Loneliness weeps and grows like a fungus

in toes and fingernails, with cascading webs of cryptic silence

It shudders like hurricanes,

a mirrored tattoo of wild breaths,

Yellow you may say—

It clasps inside my knee joint

I am born again, inside the pain of lone nights

with a silent bat hovering my windowsill

and my half lit cigarette, peek a boo.

These are stages of disintegration,

body biting body

skulls digesting mucus.

Thousands of pools of madness

Loneliness is a silent killer.

Iron tongues. Levitating.

Circles residing in the swamps of squares,

Total Madness.

©MVS