becoming

I needed more of reasoning

I became him

I needed less of deceit

I became that

I needed fake flamboyance

I became this

I needed stale stimulation

I became them

I needed magnetic deception

I became her

 

I became him

I became that

I became them

I became her

to stir up my connived imagination that was suffocating

I became those

sabotaged stolen thoughts of disinfected prophets

I became thump

and wrote bad prose with melting ice

I became trash

and left mumps in their moral throats.

 

Signed

A (dot)

Just words

rapid flutter of his thoughts..

ecstatically..

stuck on her like a

triggered booger

stuck in the periphery of cold nostrils

stumbling on red finger nails

 

woohooo..moisture in tear

 

she with her mausoleum eyes

and squashed-pumpkin lips

her chocolate-chip chin melting

on her vanilla-like nordic neck

throwing papercut words

wrapped in pious underpants

 

he with his gargantuan eye-bags

and his stopped short of helping words

gloomily following the trails of his disturbing verbiage

distracting intricate signages of deprived doodles

 

and that was that

bridge is empty now.

 

Signed

A (dot)

Torn Pages # 24

Those aged sages

with whom I completed my sentence

 

Are they still there?

 

With their sacrosanct sneezes

in their torn plastic bags

 

It took them ages to

discover what all was eaten

 

kind savages

who rummaged for my halo

in their hollow pockets

 

When ‘it’ was not found

they put me in that cage

where rage melts with time

and then they sold me in less than a dime.

 

Signed

A (dot)

Pontificated Babbling

random babbling about the origins of cravings of the sins related to that One who would never reply you back who would never listen to every word you tried to say or meant to say because all those words carried water and water flows like fire burning that hill of the catharsis like her nape of her neck and she was walking through the blizzard and breathing like ranting that you will never know that that was all just a pack of plastic lies of the majestic and it was carved methodically on her greasy palms by someone who pinched your eyeballs and scratched them and left them to leak blood of cicadas of different colors that reddened and then darkened the path where you perambulated all your life and drank borrowed wine from the broken cups of retarded cheaters and their swines who traded their time to stave off the legal confrontations with the questions of their existence and you thought that they will teach you how to sip all the melancholy from that empty cup of sadness that she broke when she puked her limbs on your shoulders and your shoulders stank of her sweet phlegm which you wished to gulp before it got washed down by the rain of cackles spent by the dealers of smiles and similes involving your nails and their rotten teeth that have bitten every single leaf of serenity in their eyes from where it all started and from there you learned to snort the irregularities of the occurrences of your inner demons who told you to burn all the mannequins down and throw them in the gutter where darkness flowed in harmony of inconsequential quench which you never understood and you never wanted anyone to understand as it creates the hollow complex walls of molten wax which is constantly dribbling but there is no gravity to pull it down so it is dribbling upwards and making a staircase which could have taken you and her in the basement of that haunting castle of your conscience that always pricked your ears to take that you-turn and fall in the swarm of intoxicated spiders who gave up flying because their wings were too heavy but their eyes were also on their wings so now they all are blind and intoxicated and carrying you on their bent backs with circular spinal chords with hairline fractures and their punctured faces reminded you of those raindrops who all looked the same when they fell on her face under that ugly moonlight on which you almost choked yourself to death but you didn’t die as it was not cold enough to glaciate your touch but it left smudges on those sunken cheeks that had barbed wire bruises that looked like wrinkles formed out of hazy dew whose moisture made more sense than any other sensible thing ever walked or crawled in your room of deep green walls with big white flakes and peelings of yellow snakes scattered all over the floor with etchings of her foot marks on which you slept after digesting every skeleton which you defeated with bare hands and scared will that was made of shattered glasses and the echo of empty chambers of corrupt magistrates with dusted files filled with all the obscenities written down neatly with one line spacing and jittered handwriting of the toothless clerk who died virgin but raised four parent less kids with torn history books in their newly bought bags with their obscure curiosity and registered mediocrities embossed on their upper lips and that is where the emotional turbulence of the dejected like yours took its rest and you dreamt of climbing those murky hills of her distraught dreams and that tread uptill her throat was nothing

 

Signed

A(dot)