A rescue poem.

i come to places where i can stich a notion to my entire body of chemicals. Strange things happen here. A women die each day/ there are ways and methods for it/ a loop of sorrow sinks like an abortion. And a mist encircles my eyebrow, like a wide corridor collapsing. i visit places that… Continue reading A rescue poem.

To A New Colour

    Sacrosanct air, violet toes touching , spamming grounds An eggshell face, with polka-dots this family is vintage. With bewildering tales, this air becomes scissor-talks, A temple is burnt, A miscarriage occurs, The soil is pale black, the tremors are afraid to knock the window pane. You and I see this We carry the… Continue reading To A New Colour