A swallowed truth/lie

Piquant Ray’s
swallowing another vein
outstripping a colour.
A semblance of mouths happen
with a tripping thrust of tongue,
A man dies and another blooms,
eating a piece of time.
syncopated sheets bleeding,
like ruckus of seizures,
does everything lick time?


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the-perceptions-of-life

the way i close my eyes is a seduction.
a clementine red prayer to my body,
with dark clouds. a sleepless child humming.
a black spot spinning in the sky, apparitions of liquid monotony.
it churns the limbs inside
with a mouth of lust.

there is a dark room of closed fists,
fists that shimmer red pain. Inside my mind of a blank page.
a white pure kiss hanging,
like a loop foreheads murmuring a word.

a seizure. a dream. I close my eyes, I see myself floating
alone in the lanes of words, a reverie of mists.
Flowers bloom inside my mouth. Knuckles of painted red nostrils.

This land is pious for I am unknown to myself.
i sneeze like a ghost
with my hands saying my uncanny dreams.
a concoction of love and death.
it’s here, speeding like a wasp.
we walk like ghosts,
sip and drink,
the arching thunders of time,
slipping softly.
hush and be quiet now. Be your own butterfly.


what remains- time kills

sediments of love and despair,
like a dose of a morbid orchid petal,
throbbing in my blue cheeks
my limbs are rooms, small pavements that you rock
small parts, dilating trembling stairs of life,
a star inside a boxed room of loneliness
revolving in the thicket sheets of air,
a haze and a backache.
a periphery of grapevines, strangling
telling me to be naked on the evil plates of loss.
i bite my lips.
i bite my lips.

my body is nothing but a voice of pain
shredding, autumn leaves
a loose fitted, transitory polar air,
cold, crisp and moist like
a surgeon bisecting my legs, my frozen tongue.
and i am nothing
only a figment of blurred smoke,
ashes like a solid piece of rope.


 

and. i. grew.

P I N T E R E S T // aubreeweaver

my dress is an Ocean of your orange skin,
the soft lullabies, tapping beneath the arms
joining cities of lust, a blue tip of tongue knowing
the pits of this coal lowlands,

it started with your wet tongue, caressing my lips
mouth like a band of tendons, tobacco burning in the palms.
your scripted hands, your oil dripping scripted hands,
they are imaginary lines in my mind.

thunder simmers in my skull, whitening the black
the deep-rooted balmy glass of kiss, stains and cigars.
Lemon and peeper sound, we sink in the moments of this.

and somehow you made me grow, preserving, pickling
beneath the dome heart of your nail,
I grew.
i grew like a sun.


p.s- please keep up with me even if I am unable to reply your comments as of now.

Moonlight

i hear jars of jasmine
 in the pale moonlight
 singing and swallowing
 the day's lie
 the fallen mask of scalded hearts.

the night has a belly of jam and butter
 smooth, a swamp of blood moons.
 a feverish rush of adrenaline,
 saying chants to hypnotize.

I hit 3k Subscribers today. Thank you all for showing me your love.

Under- observation

Yesterday was the hardest if i must say
with amniotic sheets of lost air dripping my bare chest
and extraction of arms,
making my mouth dry, loss of homes could be seen.
Missing phone booth’s of lavender drops of deads,
and hunters, hunters, hunters,
yes, you have visited the I.C.U of my mouth
with palpitating halogens, demarcating a cleft of my chin-my knee
the knuckles bleed, towards the Polaris of numb soil,
if that’s a place, so, i am flowing.
i am flowing, doped and surreal
in hands of hours
clocks mocking my body, the six-inch pits of pits.
i sit and hum a vintage song here,
a dainty varicose nerve revolving now,
i am being operated in the midnight,
among the lamps, the shades, the silhouette
i am being deluged in occurrences half meadow,
my home is the plain stench of the sun.
it sits somewhere inside my hair, city of maps.
it’s late and i am under-observation still.


a nameless land

i am a hysteria of beauty and ugliness,
eloping like a gulf,
a street shop of diamonds, cheap and blemished.
It happens at a time,
I evolve and dupe into my billowing mirage,
eyes lost in a dyslexia of love,
something chuckles inside my flesh of concave mouth
a pink belonging to my entire body,
a paroxysm of a gasp of air running like a haze, in the eye.
I watch this mirror now, the crucifixion of love and melancholy
to my body and scars,
this water lilies emerging inside my teeth,
and i have a swollen left cheek, from the last night’s bite
and a swollen neck, scratching
words of murder,
if i am the saline waters, barefoot
with no signs of lotus.


Bleed it till you breathe

flux the cactus outwards
stretching from your comatose body of air
Inwards and upwards, the abnormalities
with twigs of mahogany bleeding between your legs,
let it out, screeching your skull
till the brim splits and an adroit sleek barrier exist,
Your body, a stoic compressor
of thoughts and sighs
with longitudinal horizons.
Plain and sober.
Breathe and emancipate like a child with doll skin.
You will enter a circle, beneath your fingernails then,
a point of reverberation. Gulp the blank dot of this life.


Porcelain dreams

i watch you sleeping in the coldness nights of eve-dropping
with my vapid blue chipped nails, still gasping for breath,
i watch you like a surrealistic, walking above the ocean
to touch the mouths of lost and valleys of lights.
I turn and twitch on the bed of mirrors,
it has parts of your liquid face
gonging, cracking my lips of butter
i still watch you,
from my heavy breasts to my small hands
like a cauldron of wavelengths, skewered apart
still dropping words of a decayed autumn leaf.

this body is lipids and a segment of cosmic lights
deluged in moist concave conversations,
with oneself, with you.
You call me honey, and I begin to melt
like an Orion of mouths and skins of Gods murmuring.
My breaths slip in the ocean, the sky still succumbed
of last night’s naked love
Breaking inside you,

‘unlacing,
mending,
roaring.

i wish your eyes of chocolate rain
closed, loved, closed, mine.
Harbour of jolting smiles,
fever, broken radio voice.
all is here,
in my black pitch room,
in my crisp tongue.
And i watch you breathing, singing.

Sounds of you

This evening is a slender fireplace
burning my wet loss of losing you
a loss is a numb attack until felt
and so i see hums, bells sliding between
out cheese skins,
mellow at the bottom, i am a dream of a lavender,
matchsticks burning curtains of you,
slowly
slowly
you meltdown from the Alps, and my garden
towards a barefoot blue whisper.
A crescent moon born beneath the sway of pulp thighs
Grapevines, nocturnal in hushed nights
observing our warm apple breaths,
floral segments onto our clothes-
my white skirt and your black pants

I burn in such fields of coherence,
cleaving affection as my second, language-
Oh man, your arms of white clay
waning thunders of a white moon
so soft and musical,
unveiling a lantern of fireflies.

And then I make a sketchbook of you
amidst the pale pink flowers,
your name embossed like a manor of bees.
There under the branches of hardened leaves
between the sordid naphthalene balls of kiss
I found you, like a fallen star.