••• silver sanity •••

 

user img
the doors to my cathedral
were open with haunting symphony
echoing in between
galaxies and hallucinations

I bathe in silver beam
as the sun spits out monochromatic
drool of endless summer

but

the sweet divination
of the moon
in between cold burst of silent synergy
had me gasping
underneath myriad of stars;
surfacing
with a new wave of energy

Advertisements

Faded

Related image

there is a poem
inside my bones,
wriggling
to let go…
the metaphors
plays a master plot,
in water coloring the secrets
on my skin;

I feel the waves
crashing inside my ribcage
as I search
the direction where your footprints faded

for eons
I held my breath
and now that you cut off the string;
I was let go
like an untied balloon.

Clouds.

black and white clouds dark dark clouds
Photo by Seatizen.co on Pexels.com

a shift-
in the isometric projection
of yet another cloudy morning;
alerted me,
from sipping too many
caffeinated melancholy.

I,
in the backyard of another
unwanted lyric,
forgotten in the aftermath
of too many saturated sunrise drinks;
watched mesmerizingly,
the puffy smokes
braiding with each other-
to form a masterpiece
in the canvas
of everything mundane and bleak.

the cryptic calenture
of my ecstasy
was shoved out through the window
like used tissues,

but my imaginations
soared into galaxies;
and for a minute
I was convinced
that my Lord above was entertaining me.

Implode (NaPoMo 10)

user img

peaceful,
mournful;

the day sleeps on her shoulder
as she skins
chapters of the night,
into cracked mason jars.

I watch her-
breaking inside;

as her memories blink.

Valorous (NaPoMo 8)

user img

scars vested deep in
the clefts of my nightmares-
burn relentlessly;

too dim,

to illuminate
the dungeon
I am chained to.

yet,
the shadows
flicker
boldly in shades of blood-
pumped from within
my ribcage of promises.

I am
left not to rot,
with the drips
magnanimously-
lifting me from
self-perversion.

Dejection (NaPoMo 6)

user img
for the last decade
of my screams,
I have forgotten the hang
of how words
can echo back
to the ossuary-
wherein lies my battered self;
bleeding wet cacophony
on the gravestones
of my suicidal whims…