Things return like autumn, with leaves, shades and colours as your mountain essence stick to my collar-bone, in the moments of nights, haze, dawn. One by one, I circle around you, infinite-ball-of-love and soaked in your fingers and memories of the return, this mahogany burns, it burns as a bay leaf in segments and silvery… Continue reading As-You-return

Scars of dreams

This vintage arm is like a faded memory a corpuscle of streaming hope the greys and the reds a turbid of morbid dreams, Scars slid, dancing, they seem happy. Scars are my baby now forever, inside my hallucinating body of madness. pain is my adamant bowl of Ganges. slipping between fingers of sickle. Moist, melting… Continue reading Scars of dreams


i have a body that whizz like a circus two eulogies of sanguine madholes clifts and wars of a drunk man Loss of vision.Loss of words. repercussions produce hollows as deep as a cactus. My knees producing floating amphibians Almost inhuman. Slid my copious throat you will have two minds again there, savaging my body… Continue reading Uproar

The way it slips

Life bleeds with vacuum and spaces, backwards, a concave slope mouths of thickening slurps. it confesses its leakage each day, puncturing my navel a forgotten momentum of involuted threads of rising and falling. Life, bleeds and bleeds. a copious bruise of camouflage. ©image and words- Devika Mathur/MVS

To my other half

i have swallowed the stars in my tropical mouths of nostalgia, coping the insanity, wireless tracks with sweat and ink ink and tears. a blush of my cheeks and seizure occurs between our wild sheets our vermilion warmth. i sniff the old papers to give me paper cuts, threading a crisp jawline point of felicity… Continue reading To my other half

This poem is broken

restlessness spits the wall of death in hunger & pain. my body rotates like a disc surrendered sound of music. tip toed stigma, a struggle each day insects sound screeches, this wooden brain, or an empty space of lovemaking. call it anything. say it names, zig-zag platonic voids plastic belly button games. sick voice of… Continue reading This poem is broken

A craving

I have a craving tonight for a slice of sun or moon- talks, in runs. to decipher the poultices hidden beneath and above, somewhere between your lips & paradise,i have a craving for your love as soft as petals of Petunia a craving to count you & your terminals, your folds of skin. i have… Continue reading A craving

W O R D S – A N D- L O V E

if my fingers break with the timeline of chiselled cheeks of lust for words of hunger for hunger if turquoise veins open up, longitudes of the fallen mind like the rupturing of seeds without a sound, a mindless game What it shall be called? the itch on my legs on my lips of words, a… Continue reading W O R D S – A N D- L O V E


Strangled knots of colourless dreams, poking the inside of my mind smooth as a lullaby dark as your sins, it’s a mercury dropping a dust into the mole of my face, melting, fidgeting with your callous hands, your callous words, the dirt is what stops the heat- The dirt is what fades a star, and… Continue reading Pause

A vintage truth

Photographs are blurred memories, of faked, chipped, plastered walls cracking like walnuts, eating its own body- Walls & bones dissolving inside the tooth of dust, memories can be fatal, if picturized or vandalised. All memories collide inside flaky cheeks producing abhorrence of stars, photographs stick like a parasite to your naked soul & exposes the… Continue reading A vintage truth

I carry spring & children

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… Continue reading I carry spring & children

Recent Trends

Some people I see these days are like broken paragraphs of my poetry with a missing meter and inconsistent gravity Detonation of disgust pits and addition of volatile vodka stammers my insipid vision. Half moon, half-blood, half mouth covered, like a decomposition of the great Odyssey. Some people these days are like Vintage tributes( but… Continue reading Recent Trends

this poem is a liquid moon

My nights are inked to the soiled sheets of tears where the callous jaw bleeds inhuman poison, or a thing pale as your heart i sew it up to my nostrils, cold the fragrance, shrieking my inside pits, its dark, like blank spaces Everything seems to be a show- off your hands, your lips my… Continue reading this poem is a liquid moon

The art

your slurpy mouth holds magic to sediment a stoic seed of silence, like silence. calm shades governing, a tip-toed saliva of blank eyes, a life kissing a life. behind your earlobe, the sky falls, in tunes of carbon thick slices of carbon. coal romances with fire, life exists everwhere. ©MVS

Inside the walls of sin

My bathroom falls, like walls bleeding poetry of forlorn wrists. The process of cleansing my body is like knotting my untamed hair into a Chinese Bun. The tools twist and become a shapeshifter. The water bath suddenly acts as an agent. chemical reaction running through my body. My bathtub is a war-like place, and I… Continue reading Inside the walls of sin