But I’m deranged in places that don’t exist loud enough.
There is no poetic sunshine where i come from,
there is no dreamy night filled with stars and the scent of lovely roses.
I think of all the pages dying every night in the grave of your spit.
People often talk about the ground slipping from under their feet, but have you ever felt it slipping right back?
I look down at my empty palms holding on to nothing but a blackness that has no shade, a hope that has no name.
A poster and a thought.
‘Naked’ And to my mother’s ears, it’s ‘Blasphemy’. I wonder what’s more suffocating, the fact that I am Naked and a mere reflection of her or the fact that she’s had her eyes closed this whole time? The society is the most illusionary mirror to ever exist. It shows you what you desire, but atContinue reading “Naked”
There’s a fantasy, at the surface of my spine It flutters into your arms like a Gothic Romance choking on its own saliva I spill the rainbows that you planted in my bladder ~ an acid leaves my body crawling on all fours, There’s a lullaby growing in my belly & with every kiss, youContinue reading “Fantasies & Fiction”
All the night Creatures crawled up to my desk ~ & I wondered… What Creature am I in their language? The one with the touch of Death or the God with untimely sunlight ~ as bright as a snowfall in the raging summers? They keep coming back, I don’t think they’ve a name for me.Continue reading “Night Creatures”
An excerpt from a poem, a question to myself and fellow writers; Will you write yourself?