lady in white

  I know of a lady in whitewith a mouth full of promises,spreading a nocturnal path of flowers,like a longed kiss above the eye,a lady that slips in my chest,within the small rim of my fist,a sniff so wild, a mouth that dwells on mountains moist.a lady with a potato peel,with cardigans and wool on… Continue reading lady in white

Thought factory

I sit here. In the park full of overly grown people. I see a black sky, lights flickering halfway. A subtle ripple of a thought gushing in the man’s eye, standing next to me I emboss his voice to the sky, somehow. A bush full of flowers, sweet nectar from the eyelids submerging my feet… Continue reading Thought factory

In the sky.

we look at the same clouds.the same loose hanging blue tint of our elbow.we sniff the same sky,the paper balls of dreams.ah, it reminds me of your whole body.a map cascading through your hairline to your hip. a sky resides there too.The water. The rain.The crinkling sheets of staircase.the steps that go mad.mad/ inflated/ swing.… Continue reading In the sky.

Give me/ something

perhaps i got caught between your silk fingers, gently throwing the vomit away, petals of lips brushing away, swaying like thunders. perhaps, i slipped into you before time, before spring could collapse on my belly, time sticks too many collection. i am bloodlust, caffeine on the stove, incensed. expanding like perforated sky only to melt… Continue reading Give me/ something

I think of you

you sit on my corrosive neck and feel the black void spot, i have bones made of bone-china and a little neck to proceed. i stand and look for you in aberrant currents, i split daylight across your arms. to know the layers of your skin & words i perform rituals day after day. A… Continue reading I think of you

This poem is broken

restlessness spits the wall of death in hunger & pain. my body rotates like a disc surrendered sound of music. tip toed stigma, a struggle each day insects sound screeches, this wooden brain, or an empty space of lovemaking. call it anything. say it names, zig-zag platonic voids plastic belly button games. sick voice of… Continue reading This poem is broken