i have a tongue of colours with rooms of spaces, mapping you & me. A Polaroid stitch of sinking, like bubbles erupting in my hollows of womanhood, i have an eye like the sky- drugged, fuller lips with ashtray of hopes, I spin in my own body, toes kissing head heads going missing- like a reality fading, Is it a kind of operation taking place? Anxious hair fanning my tanned skin, I carry children & autumn both sleeping in my dreams, like you- you faggot skinned- mammal and you smirk my Lilly shadows as always. as always.
I was the one
with bruises and stones
in my mirror-eyed reflection
a reflection of you, mother
the cacophony of time and hours
floating inside your eyes,
the heaviness of pebbles and rituals.
Your arm mocked your cerulean breast,
with its swollen stigma of memoirs
and some pictures, vintage.
I combed your concave mouths
of dripping forlorn fractures,
like a staircase bleeding
or a topology reversed and processed.
I am a soft song in your black-knitted bun
a piece of your chipped nail,
a sunflower, kissed and harassed
inside your turbulent head.
A cauldron, and a day full of nights
hid beneath your muffled chin,
a mole hanging beneath your shouts and dim- dreams.
Mother, you are a pool of madness
and a point blank.
Obscure, shadowy your tongue knits tears
and a sweet thread of touch, impeccable.
Sometimes, I glint in your orange censure
a pattern of love and you,
Your body is a dream.
and I fall in your loops of laps.
the uncontrollable seizures,
the uncontrollable laughters,
Scarlet red wires.
it’s all you, it’s all you.
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