Streams of white skies
hoping to be saved
A wild thing praying- over and over.
There is no art if not love or there is no existence if not love.
But do you see this- this flinch in the sky
a maroon longing of a beetle.
Hemispheres rivetting.
There is nothing beyond the periphery of our emotion
Above the sea- salt loneliness.
Eyes- a lost trapezium.
Tip-toed walks. But they are walks only. So do it. Walk.
Squint. Moan. Throttle. Look above the concept of ' oneself'.
Water Rose
Where am i now?
Transparent nectars- juices.
Aquamarine lust.
Aquamarine dreams.
바카라 웹사이트
Molars in water,
Face flaps and shivers
Putting my mouth again and again under water faucet.
What am i now?
A lotus in mud. A lotus upon my lover's eye.
What?바카라 웹사이트
I wake up abruptly here
Flabbergasted arms. No knowledge. Vague and cherished.
Discrete summers.
I am submerged here.
Opague and tattooed
But i want to sleep here opening my auburn toes into a myriad of tunes- juices again.
I hear a knock- lust and dreams.
No muscle. Weak. No tongue. Weak.
I have a slippery body but
But but 바카라 웹사이트nothing sits upon it.
What- "water"??바카라 웹사이트
How do i say this?
I am sitting here licking my nights and clavicle.바카라 웹사이트
(Devika바카라 웹사이트Mathur바카라 웹사이트resides in India and is a published poet, writer, and editor. Her works have been published in바카라 웹사이트The Alipore Post, Madras Courier, Modern Literature, Two Drops Of Ink, Dying Dahlia Review, Pif Magazine, Spillwords, Duane's Poetree, Piker Press, Mojave heart review, Whisper and the Roar바카라 웹사이트amongst others. She writes for바카라 웹사이트https://myvaliantsoulsblog.wordpress.com/바카라 웹사이트바카라 웹사이트바카라 웹사이트and recently published her book "Crimson Skins")
