poetry · prose

On Dreams

L o r e e e h h

Night breaks apart like thousand skies on Earth
with a hint of mauvish whisper
the whisper spills everywhere
enveloping things around me.

Dreams create illusion of being permanent
of sticking to the odd times
with a mayhem stuck to the air.

You would wish to sit and digest
each tiny aspect of dreams
with a mind of a spider
trying to decode the methods
but you would end up missing on your pills.

                       It does not matter
                           anymore
the warm shade of conclusions
till the time your hands are rooted in the soil
till the time you hands feel the pain,
yellow or orange.

There is something to change the blood into passion,
dreams that becomes nightmares
colours that become a chalice of poison.

It does not matter.

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poetry

The flight

Yeh Seedhi Sadhi Chori Sharabi Ho Gayi | via Tumblr

Where does it go?
Your unspoken word of lust,
an ensemble of parched dancing words,
Do you let them run?
Or do you absorb the guilt, like a sponge?

Harvest the other sides of pixie lawn now,
Run… run along the shores
embossing a pain onto the sand.

Among the stars is a paper flower blooming,
with a binomial tongue to speak.
The star and the earth do not suffice your sparkle.
Pelican featured sunset glows.

Slurp and slurp.
The agony hides behind the crevices of teeth.
Churn your fear like a betel leaf,
Take a flight,
Like the bunch of sun-kissed memories.

poetry

Skins Of Skins

Image result for lust art
image credits- Gottfried Berlin

Latitude of your strawberry eye in congruence with my winter skin
where a pool of weeds evaporate sinking into the outlandish touch,
A loop of anomalous cogent thread arise in the windowpane of your heart,
I see the Earth, the moon and my teeth cracking your Universe,
For I reside in your skins of skins.
Quixotic eyes that spill the poetic halcyon of star-dust,
like the friction of two naked bodies romancing on the naked moon,
I see you evolving, a robust wild bittersweet flower,
I see your palpable heart, and my lips breathing Skins of Skins.

©My Valiant Soul