The Old Body-

with chained ankles, hush, thrilling lips, a body floats inside my mind, dwindling through the carcass, old and vintage- a mahogany river of crooked moonlight, this body blooms and sinks at the same time, uttering a blob of big sun-shaped tongue emerging out, emerging through the stains and walls through veins and puddles. this time… Continue reading The Old Body-


Longings My days are cryptic with mellow songs sunflowers pressed on my bosom, on my chest. My days are usually full of lies and loneliness with a wildflower travelling through my veins, Where a mind refuses to sleep, a haunted manor of poetry painted carpets a garden of lover’s daydream At sunsets I visit temples,… Continue reading Longings


Scissors often draw a diagram On my cold slender hands, A light peeks in, as if to tell something new. A light A hope. A hiccup that stops another hiccup. This light, a soft tune to my ears. What do I consider this art of life? A hummus stain on my sequin dress. A quiet… Continue reading Arbitration-

The itch

the itch,the orange glass ceilings always fail my existence,an inhuman thing sinks beneath my eyelidswalking abruptly, in patterns unknown,there are things which makes no sensea loose river like madnessa loose butter like sky slipping from my white hands,my hands which are now counting the marks of my footprintsmaking a spiral knot about this moments,this momentary… Continue reading The itch

Falling Dream

I am quiet too oftenlike the empty hallways,humming a song already forgottenwith a tilting toe towards the suna sigh: pink fingers dipped in paina sigh: pink fingers dipped in hallucination there is a staircase nowfalling beneath my parting headhalf towards left, half towards rightdays whistling on sea wavesabout my country in flames,about my city in… Continue reading Falling Dream

A love tale

Beneath my chinabove the nape of the necka heralding discover I utter,a tune of orgasm in sunshinea tune of roaring diaphragm,here, I sit and count my fingers dippednumb and electric,so much despairthat stares back.So much to reachjust a handcold, cold, coldand nothing else now.Limping and stuttering,between my cold claviclewith bones so thin and weak There… Continue reading A love tale


How many times do I shift my bodily postures? from a room so cold, so absolute, to a room full of hopes. There is a never -ending system of dying things in here. I move like a ‘banjaran’ wishing for dead leaves, painted auburn sky sunlight hitting my pale, loose skin, I move to hide… Continue reading Countless

Flower and Fruits

These words will arrive in formations about my sleep about the morning fresh dew. about Point of indulgence. Crisp periphery of sliced strawberries. About dying Flowers and Fruits. Scratch, fingers across belly button. Finding appropriate word is almost like flowing incessantly. Organs fluttering. My words will occur in shapeless boundaries with lanterns and lost sheets… Continue reading Flower and Fruits

Tales from the dark

the nights shift incessantly between the coiled conversation, about semantics of life the arrival and departure of distilled solitude at a point of growling sleep patterns my words think they are tool to carve to emboss a pain onto the strangers arms about melancholic shifting dreams, the mosiac vintage art my nakedness is a cry… Continue reading Tales from the dark

Growing up

I realize I am growing old with my mother’s home prepared coconut oil, pressed flowers on the sheets. I sleep next to her almost like a ritual now, I realize when she mumbles softly in her sleeps the childhood was different- It was full of prayers, folk songs, odes, laments. I see her sleep walking… Continue reading Growing up

A lost letter to my father

  image credits- pinterest Thunder, if that is one big word I want you to gulp it down. My walls speaks of you of a memory we shared over the sweet sunrise from the balcony Your percolating memories stir my throat to think of our blue wise words. I was always a pebble a sweet,… Continue reading A lost letter to my father

A poem so sad

3:09 a.m I think the ache begins at my lower back, The hurt that I got due to an accident Or a muscle collapsing. Things or two it taught me about distraction, and wholesome love. The pain shift to my left angular hand. The palm unfocused, floating in the air a pendulum song. The knee… Continue reading A poem so sad

song of despair

  the body swells in the anarchy of lunatic afternoon the mouth fumbles, softly dripping  sonnets from the toes, the face gulps the horrors swiveling across the pale streets, i sing a song so full of flat tune now, in the small clots of blue sky. and I never stop staring at that sky, that… Continue reading song of despair

The flight

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… Continue reading The flight