we look at the same clouds. the same loose hanging blue tint of our elbow. we sniff the same sky, the paper balls of dreams. ah, it reminds me of your whole body. a map cascading through your hairline to your hip.
a sky resides there too. The water. The rain. The crinkling sheets of staircase. the steps that go mad. mad/ inflated/ swing.
i often want to hold your breath between my palms, a souvenir of Cupid’s. or maybe preserve and turn in into a vintage burp. oh yes, i can swallow this sky. i can swallow you. for we both are liquid, between the squirming gasps.
there is a corner of Life. up in the grey, lava, fat sky. we shall meet like dust, like a sound. like a pool of soft indentation. up there. in the sky. between the calamitous whiff and your black eyes.
i have words, letters , synonyms hanging like branches of temple. point of emotions. wars. i am not alive, i am hanging like joints. these ephemeral stages that are bulbs during the day. for no reason, i am damp and moist. Forest with twigs lit my entire body.
Is it the poetry spreading like a disease now? i see no moon…i see only a Point. point of love. Matrices. Sky impregnated with moisture.
The perimeter of music delivers
a song to remember
like my elongated legs
with blemishes and scars.
Bend it, inhale it
it suffices the moment,
the parts and lies.
Life's beauty is in slithering
like a river flow
that takes nothing but delivers
million muted lessons to live by.
Memories and laughters.
Soft bruises, soft kisses.
Pause and reverse,
A microphonic song,
humming and screaming
of blue skies,
cerulean stagnant hands of rain.
It utters a rhyme.
it utters Poetry.
My squinting eyes evolve and illuminate the seeds and seedlings of us. Germination and hibernation. It’s stillness spinning on my cracking bones and lips. Thunders push forward my footprints, marking sand and sand-dunes of time like a canopy or translucent umbrella of opaque dreams. It’s treacherous. Banal and vixen kisses to tell you. The door-knobs even pique and cringe if this bellybutton delivers abhorrence of time and scars.
I have been bitten and marked. Denouement spoke to my tongue. I had a liquid conversation with the hinges of my black bed and cottons of white pillow, it scared me like a colossal tornado.I had inexplicable seizures that year and was hustled with a silver spoon to keep me alive. And I survived and lived.
Sustenance mingles with the Universe to crack your spine always.
I tasted salinity and guns. With thorns and lotus opening up in my callous floral palms. These small, little white palms.
Tides often slow down and flush waters only after a big cyclone. And, I learned something.