There are different ways in which i sip my tea
the one that dwells inside my chest speaking of you,
your eyes are my favourite perfume,
a rivetting hiccup that soothes my freckles.
My tea speaks of you in ways indefinite.
The body is incoherent, beating loudly to sit beneath your ailments,
your feverish toe that curls my belly.
Where do you travel during nights?
Like a poem dissolving into the sheets of soil,
amidst the wild sky
where i sniff the patch of cold winter,
you only you can do things to me what the earth does to sky.
The trees have begun to dream again
of embroidered romance and things beyond
of goddess and intinate corridors.
Of lust & prayers.
We lick each other like palpitating cotton candies
then close into our scuped veins
levitating in the air,
We become full into a phenomenal clous of moans.
In transmission lines,
I suddenly become aware,
nocturnal hiss of bed sheets of sounds.
How many times do I need to die
to keep you awake?
A figure of wax evolves and quietly speaks your name to me.
Your tangerine lips,
a lump of sugar and clove
all dissolved in my ears.
What is your language of love?
You reach my body with chemicals gushing
until the body shatters beyond a dot of oblivion.
I part in five thousand ways,
so vivid and distinct,
A chalice of fiction and midsummer’s song.
I breathe you like a ghost now.
With a thermometer put on my bosom
and eyes chanting your name forever.
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There, beyond the ripples of mouth,
lovers sits & communicate,
through the sprint in their lashes,
flutter of springs.
a translucent shadow defies time.
for that particular moment.
small things begin to dilate.
too much convulsions,
temperature drop, wrinkled grass land.
A grasshoper watches sky detonating.
laughters circulating the wobbly afternoon.
A visceral face expanding.
There are marks.
marks on the filtered earth,
A wasp of Lilith neck.
Lovers scamper across the evening sky,
floating through the oasis of skin,
flesh, promises, a picture to repeat the art.
the shapes that attach like clay.
it spreads under my own body.
duplex spiral grapevine.
Cherries under your foot,
A lament to recite,
day and night.
count and tell me the times I sank for you,
My voices tore away like a sunburn.
love blooms love with such endearment
A landscape of Oval sunset all in your palms.
this sky lives like poetry in your belly.
Where i come and sleep, to absorb the moisture of cold nights.
I bloom, like a lotus, near a windowsill to worship you,
i see you like vintage telephones in my surreal mind.
Rings of vacant loneliness has eaten me, desiccated me.
so i bury myself in your atmosphere of springs and springs.
Sequences are memories. An atom dissolves.
And I dissolve in you.
Thunders, in the mouth that we carry
A piquant starlight of your skin.
My darling, you live like . a town in my belly.
Each day, we grow in the circles of sestina.
A sweet nectar of snowflakes,
a silhouette of moist lip.
The retracing footsteps of delusions,
scratching the tip of tongue,
where we sit and drink memories.
and i absorb a glowing blurb,
parched, smudged yet a soft feverish glow
There is a sand dune in making,
we call it a coltish home,
Scribbles from books and hearts
a river, a windowsill peeking another sunset.
I want you telling me how you desire me.
Like the orchids from the backyard,
A spring growing beneath your breath.
colours of you,
colours of concave slippery night.
you have fingers, plastered, decorated
a chant if i must say that i wish to say.
its you darling and things about you,
that i wish to preserve and dig it into the mud.
I wish to preserve you, this ecosystem full of you.’
collecting deepest laments of our moments.
i watch you sleeping in the coldness nights of eve-dropping
with my vapid blue chipped nails, still gasping for breath,
i watch you like a surrealistic, walking above the ocean
to touch the mouths of lost and valleys of lights.
I turn and twitch on the bed of mirrors,
it has parts of your liquid face
gonging, cracking my lips of butter
i still watch you,
from my heavy breasts to my small hands
like a cauldron of wavelengths, skewered apart
still dropping words of a decayed autumn leaf.
this body is lipids and a segment of cosmic lights
deluged in moist concave conversations,
with oneself, with you.
You call me honey, and I begin to melt
like an Orion of mouths and skins of Gods murmuring.
My breaths slip in the ocean, the sky still succumbed
of last night’s naked love
Breaking inside you,
i wish your eyes of chocolate rain
closed, loved, closed, mine.
Harbour of jolting smiles,
fever, broken radio voice.
all is here,
in my black pitch room,
in my crisp tongue.
And i watch you breathing, singing.
i have written in my belly,
a thing for you,
your name that clamours this wall.
i have it preserved into my bones,
these skeletons of dark bowl.
ah! your voice, eccentric, atoms of atoms.
you blink, and i am basket of sunsets.
this life is a point of conversation.
with you, i skip this life.
a word that flutters still, like a pill.
my darling create a tremor,
with spaces white as snowflakes.
i slip into you, a swirl of art.
My Phospherent body of raisin skin
moans and swells like a process of Spirituality
with fingers clinging your mouth,
your scars, your lips, your teeth
and your heart of surrealistic reverie.
I become a thunderbolt,
in the opulent windows of dreams and smiles
wearing your white shirt, I swing.
I swing like an autumn leaf,
cascading down your throat,
that black spot on your chest
You thump and palpitate my arms.
Spring is born between our naked lips.
The temperature of cold walls crack
in the slices of Orion blue.
A stardust drinks the entire Constellation
Life trembles and illusions occur.
I breathe you somewhere between
the spaces of my index finger and my thumb now.
I wear your sins on my mercury tongue
levitating branches and seeds of satisfaction, darling.
my dress is an Ocean of your orange skin,
the soft lullabies, tapping beneath the arms
joining cities of lust, a blue tip of tongue knowing
the pits of this coal lowlands,
it started with your wet tongue, caressing my lips
mouth like a band of tendons, tobacco burning in the palms.
your scripted hands, your oil dripping scripted hands,
they are imaginary lines in my mind.
thunder simmers in my skull, whitening the black
the deep-rooted balmy glass of kiss, stains and cigars.
Lemon and peeper sound, we sink in the moments of this.
and somehow you made me grow, preserving, pickling
beneath the dome heart of your nail,
i grew like a sun.
p.s- please keep up with me even if I am unable to reply your comments as of now.