I feel a sudden twitch today,
Blue as this cold dead water ripple.
Flavored sniffs of nocturnal touches of laughter,
all wrapped in the thin film of a small garden,
watching me like a ghost.
My body is one today, floating in abysmal.
Plagiarism of mouth often haunts my brain.
And each time, i pick up my fallen canvas of dreams,
emptying, filling, emptying…
the process takes a day or a night.
I am broken like complete poetry.
There is a method of how I decay. I believe it is the greatest notion.
the greatest form of art, you should learn.
I hear it,
the drumming windows of that ghost.
I feel abortions, thousand of them in my belly, like that.
And then there is my mirror,
hollow, small, flowing.
a twig of spring inside my mouth,
popping up to show my mind, a beautiful mind.
and i am done for today,
the grey hopes, stoned and tied.
A torrential wave of numb waters,
i sit on the ground where a fly wilts,
sticking its head on the soil.
To be a morose winter, maybe.
And i resemble that.
My hands are not butter anymore,
they do not count stars,
they stink rather of filth/ bluish trepidation. And I am done for the day, like that.
I want to offer my body
petals of seduction,
curved and surviving
into the madhouse of sickness
to the surviving lotus.
I may not scream as icicles of tears,
with hallow bites of you clinging my wrist,
Engines of ruffled sleeps,
constant pain and pool of madness,
I want to offer my naked eye
hanging blurred stiff body-
to the callous of falling bodies.
you & your sickened friend,
your friend & your shimmering body joints,
You see, my body became a home of insanity,
with ashes, leftovers,
clocks of loose time.
You see, i have been there,
dripping like cold blood.
And, i sniff and hurt more and more.
How do I express my anxiety?
Let me dip my nails and bite my skin,
with the horrors of iterative chills
like a wood spanking my cheekbones
Colour changing, chameleon tongue.
I am pulverized in this shade of trance,
with my thoughts eating my red eyelids.
Pich and pluck or pluck and pinch
Spit and run or run and spit
The ebb of heart rises like high tides in sigh.
I sit in this corner, burning now
along with the burning ink.
Dyslexia, into my thin membrane
to hear your wounding tales
Pervicacious drops of blood stick to my venom
I hear wars, tremors, haze into the folds of my skin,
like palpable beggar’s eye.
My white bed-sheet mark my body with cuts, acidic tears
Proliferating porous permanent scars
Hush, my words are twisting into my own stomach,
My thick mouth deteriorates again and again
Observe my skin, its expanding its dimensions
Changing seasons, changing colours
Squalid eyes pinch the glance, time pokes thorns on my tongue
Am I a myth, still being a reality?
Or I am the reality in your venal liquid baked body.