Mannequin..

Poppies of December last;
Haunting screaming..
If only he knew how terrified I was..
If only he knew that daunting ramble..
If only he knew those visions bygone..
If only he knew how I crawled..
and bawled every morning
Every night..
every sight that caught my scarf's
Wringing rancid warmth..
that choked and clung..
With each breath that hung on more
and more...
And More..
to my lips;
Waxing them with vapours of the last few
Sights of You.

Vanished..

Gaze, the color of eyelid caves
Shelter shade for rapid dreams,
Creasing realms of macrocosm.
~
Argon  & me..

Anonyma;

 Tinkle,

I hear that tinkling

Amidst monologues of Jim and John..

Paints, they sink over the drone;

Of this despicable solitary townscape..

   Violet,

I see that violet hyacinth;

Hidden amongst bonsai and Clive;

Paints- they melt into teary mud ponds..

Of insignificant many traces;

Along the smell of That Earth..

        Pearl,

I touch the trembling pearled rain;

Which grieving rapturous tranquility,

Leaps out at  flickering neon scatters..

In vain; I dredge the slimy molds.. 

Crunching ether

with bruised primroses;

As muffled quietude,

screeches the salvaged requiem.


P.S.~ With a lot of love and help from my beloved :)

Averted.

Cuneiform..
the wink of darkness....
scribbled over vacuum..
crossing the paths..
Of blinks so repressed..
Into a raven..
that was but none..
But a faultless swallow..

Silence..

A sullen candle steels in hush madness..
Uncovered gleam clings;
Erupting into the florid stench of webs;
The standstill feet sink humbly
Into faithless mounds of sand..


~'written for an eclectic man.. 

Stark belief..

The Inferno fell apart;

In a natal urge of flaking flames...

Crumbling anticipation..

Coarse redemption floats in regress;

Hanging amid rusted hinges..

Trudging the cornered edges..
Of a mirthless droplet.. 

Monsoon swept faithless breves..

Entrenched in mistaken silhouettes..

Settled in mistaken eyes..

Unsettled in a bleeding withdrawal...

An Afternoon..

Deceased agony lulled speech;

Underneath lengths of torn elegies..

Prose spilled prologues too many..

In wrath and delusions of paradigm;