Sleep, dear human

young flesh, older dust of stars dark, open wounds and glimmering scars. a plexus of eccentricities normalized with words, breaths escaping, counting backwards- You, dear human; the shallow of your cheek, the depth of your deep, collapse tonight in a listless sleep. catch your breath, as you fall in your head, when you’re alive in the body, while in sleep you’re dead. Continue reading Sleep, dear human

Dreams 

​Quiet nights be our witness,  and starry skies  do see,  This night would listen, and so would many,  that are yet  to be,  The little tales of charm we seek,  woven with  moonbeams, Of how we loved and unmade ourselves  in our  living dreams. Continue reading Dreams 

Being

poets lie, they fib in the verses give names to absence . and talk of grief and smiles  in neighboring  lines  . paint colourless pictures and turn  blindness to  such light  . yet ruffle old  comfort  and break  confines  . what might be or might there be  a reason to the being  of poetry . structured chaos and the poet’s thoughtful asymmetry? . ramblings of a  disconcerted heart … Continue reading Being

Sober 

The mountain air, my sniff of high Trenches, dips and curves the rides of amusement  Pour my heart down a valley, into a stream of sigh Watch it bungee jump, with no attachment.  The foaming mouths of the ocean waves by the beach My skin dipping on its wonder  Feet inches deep in the depth of sand  Sink deeper, deeper- here’s my gambling plunder Drunk, … Continue reading Sober 

Bitter aftertaste

Shimmering drops still  Clinging, dripping down  the window still  After the rain has ceased.  . Several streaks still lined  On skin from striken eyes traced down, after  the heart has cried it’s last.  . Solitary, swivelling leaf Fluttering through the silence,  Grit hung in the wind, When a storm has come to calm.  . Sharp sniffs, suffering breath, punctuated gasps of air, Into a quaking … Continue reading Bitter aftertaste