Implode (NaPoMo 10)

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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.

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Valorous (NaPoMo 8)

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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)

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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…

Blemished (NaPoMo 5)

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~~

my limbs fold in
itself,
merging together
to form a self-carved
stone;
atop pebbles
thrown at me,
as I tried to crawl
through abyss of
echoing conflicts.

time swayed
relentlessly
forming monochrome
in a heartbeat;
yet,
I remained as a stigma
amidst stipples.

~~

Spurious (NaPoMo 2)

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smoldering solitude
between the distance
of my winged eyes,
creates hazardous aura-
as I paint
charcoal stains
down my chin
to this cheap sequenced dress.

the tequila swab
did nothing to stop
the birds
from rupturing my ribcages.

I end up
open palmed
in the solitude of
a distorted imagery.

Chimera (NaPoMo 1)

 

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I barely notice
the heaving grey clouds
in between my pictorial
representation-
of silver monasteries,
sitting shoulder to shoulder
in pride;
waiting for heaven
to click a flash
and capture them all in one
big fake picture.

and l, I smile…
waiting for the meadows to
invigorate me

…In that old castle of haunted prayers…

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the stipples left too many
odd spots on the ground,
where once hummed hymns
echoed boundlessly
as I ran my fingers
through the pews of disregarded hopes.

woken up
by the tune of old piano
that coughed up dust at first
and then blindly regarded my
beating heart.

enchanted
bewitched

candles flickered
eerily,
like shadows of long forgotten memories
danced in the gloomy sun

each footstep
christened the damned spirits
who followed my tempo

each second fell like dust
onto paper
as I crafted words
that flew around;
songs meant to be sung
and vows meant to keep.

I mercilessly ignited sleeping phantoms,
and watched how the
musical notes possessed me to laugh
in the forgotten channels of mysteries
and how the silence laughed with me.

sometimes
the best-sung songs are hidden beneath smiles
in the most deserted alleys of life