This moment explodes into million segments of sunshine and liquor
streaming of roses, bullets slaps my tongue,
to spit the naked lie.
I walk on the fields of white hemisphere
where Poetry romances with me,
Silence is best experienced in the moments
when our body is Old utensils
Breaking my knuckles I smirk at that windowsill
where ashes of my pain melted, floated.
Oh, silence of beauty
come and coincide with my jawline
like the language of warriors
inch by inch slip into my white palms
dividing my delusions into a periphery of the star
Dissolve into my thick shadow of moles and wide dimples
cleaving my reverse staircases
spread like white snow,
spit frost on my forehead
Here, something Paranormal occurs.
And everything is just a white beauty.
I know language of flowers and dandelions,
the language of thorns and crooked stars
silence resist in the topology of melting grass
like the Colossus,
I am lost in trepidation of white penumbra
surrounding my teeth and distance between teeth
hush…hush…my body is aerial
hush…hush…my grey segment of the index finger is silent.
In the cacophony of lost and found
I am a soliloquy speech
under your slick peels of love, hate.
I have a temple inside my chin,
for I am a pendulum of sonorous