The women of my time spend too much time thinking, thinking about the leftover foods the leftover oil, cucumbers and what not The women of my time speak a vacant language a kind of verbiage which makes you stutter they have a lost glory eyesight they wish to see things yet falls on a flat… Continue reading the women of my time
What becomes out of a light that perches on the shade? A coma or a complete sentence? Does a wound heal if exposd to a skin’s love? What becomes of a translucent onion that can not be further minced? A life comes with a moment of quietness through the lens of wet eye. A doctor’s… Continue reading a/ Palette of cycle
The noise, I hear it from the shallow bush beneath my feet. Drop by drop. The noise of silence. an embalmed kiss of spewing night an old lady combing the hair, zig-zag, the ghosts on the staircase, too flimsy, often too blatant. I sometimes think and sniff the ink of other poets, the others; who… Continue reading The noise
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.… Continue reading Streak
A cold mouth of air, streaming down the rivers up till my painted toes. I see a circled pair romancing behind the surface of the sky. A cold distilled breaths. Pure. Fixating, like a rubber band. Far away from this orange sunset. I hear umbrellas holding a hand of a detached one. They support and… Continue reading Halt
Inside the rim of a bottle Or outside the grilled window You poke and churn the mystical hoax Digesting into the pool of madness A reverie. A fiction. A ballistic throttle. A healing iris. A gargantuan of flowing words. A paroxysm. Peel the skin, scratch the inside of an apple Search the word, burn it… Continue reading Insatiable hunger
Auburn circles of faith, drooling hope in my throat choking my senses to deliver the web of matched periphery of dawn to dusk. I am hanging from the top of colossal tree, where children and lovers come to bask in the mirth of my golden shade, My sapphire corset lying in the turbid laps of nature under… Continue reading Auburn circle
trivial issues get reverence, vital people ignored the state of mind has lost its intoxication, oh! I miss being the wild one around.