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.
“Her heart was made of liquid sunsets”- Virginia Woolf
So, this is how it starts, backwards and forwards
A canopy of fire dwindling in the mercury stars of ocean
Routing the past weeds and merciless eyes
Imbroglio thunders often attacked me, I threw fits and seizure
on these wooden floors on the horizons of your body
and so much vomit, Ah!
But you see the endings do not end here,
My teardrop holds your bones and breaths
uncountable fantasies clinging my necklace
Prolixity of your memories often defeat the pendulum
I carry so much in my heart if precisely stating.
And so this is how it begins in the stardust and galaxies
where I calm my madness and powder my worries
dropping my heavy footsteps into the pool of oceanic torrent
The electric waves do teach me brightness and darkness if you must say
And my heart takes everything you spit on my bedsheet
My heart touches the ebb of mundane sunrises and sunsets
Still working the aftermaths, hurricanes, polemical truths.
P.S- Virginia Woolf’s writings are always resonating and mesmerizing to me. My words are only and only a small tribute to this powerful soul! She shall always be an inspiration.
How many cuts does it take for a tree to heal?
Beneath the dark trunk of the Cedar tree,
memories and lives are buried
Above that same tree, premonitions of death and twitches exist
Symphony along with words is music like soft poppies
dancing in circles on my bulky breasts, (dripping sound of sweat, wax)
Your lie was my favourite perfume,
I wore that inside my body, like branches opening up, one by one
My mouth is full of water and dirt.
You are standing like a white faded star
full of thunderbolts, recumbent beds of black horizon
sticking to my tender green veins,
Between blank spaces and unsaid words, you existed like a stained-cellar
Bruised telephones, crooked chains of hope
Aligned perfectly under your dark skin,
the bites of ant wakes me up from a deep slumber,
Entwined bones crackles like spider’s great piece of architect
This is when I see, end of seasons
end of river flow, end of unseen Unicorns.
i have watched you swallowing my winter talks and gripping my crooked breaths I become an empty air in my body surviving for your arms and tongue the weeds that grow inside our bellies, something divine occurs like doves and pigeons, we flap and nurture my red nail paint chips and get dissolves into your teeth you ingest me with soaked balls of kisses and softness that of the moon I see you like a shadow i want to digest and churn into my stomach i see you as thunders and the Himalayas perhaps, I can be the icicle of your cheeks sitting onto your lips screaming my undertones of solace and then bites, bites, some more bites.
At this point, i am floating like starfish, Corals at the nape of your neck where i once tattooed my clandestine tears, now volatilized, faded and so i eat you like my favourite breakfast day and night night and day.