Drug me In syringes

Singing ravenous melodies
Content that she could put to song
Her misery

Across ten fold oceans
Sailing in alternative octaves
Of songs conjured in darkness
Beneath the dome of insects
Mating in loud moans
Buzzing along
Bzzzzz

He carved emptiness in the lair
As lions roared royally

Hyenas swiveled crude tools
And aimed it at the pretty back
Of the much ugly face
That wasted was
By the plague attack

There again she lay stricken
Choler full
In a colorful collar dress
Weaved by uprooted wings
That reflected emotion
In dual tones of light

Anthony as was
Stripped by Miss Cleopatra the fifth
Right then losing his respect
Of being calculative and
More like a queen on a chess board
Who has no more than to protect her beloved?
Threw his sword at the arousal
Of his curd grinding organ

Spit spit on him
And what would her fault be?
The one who sang bitter melodies?

She was raped
Merely, now society’s bait
Maybe paying cause she was Cleopatra in her last fate
Now losing faith

Hah
Blind
Eyes ripped apart
Nerves bloody ended dangling
Hallelujah
There we are yet bound by karma
So do good now.
Haha
Find good
Give me ecstasy
Colorful pills
Shut Up.
I will do my enemy.
Ride dragons till Aunt Hazel calls me back
To fuck opiates.

Tooti Frooti

I could dance in little letters of
curved alphabets
that look upon
your countenance
and make words that suffice
my eagerness to sway in your arms.

I could picture you
in tofu cubes
or him that holds me
for you.

But I wouldn't dare
to do, because
then I'd shred him to pieces
in need of wanting more of you.
: O

I could wait
some more,
and purchase time
with diamonds adorning
my sublime?

But then would that make me a whore,
the one who gave up
just to touch and give away
just so that she could
hear your voice.

In timid whispers
trying to hide the congregation
of the ebb and tide of her bosom
that splashes like a wave
when you go away.
Only momentarily,
till again they knock on her womanliness
As she weaves thick blankets of silken dreams.

And covers you under them
giggling profusely
in your chest hair
tickling her nostrils
while you hold her brevity and
all of that in the cup of your palm.

And then she sneezes silver dust
and cuckoos fly out of her mouth
silly me!

Then she grew thorns
and stood there pretty.
A rose in the ruins
serenaded by the storm.

An Addicts Story

This is a small illusion that graces a few. A man devoid of responsibility who slowly slips into smoking hash, eventually getting addicted to it. Savours the taste of The extravagance of Lord Shiva. In a small meeting with himself. The man discovers the conflict of divinity and mortality. Sometimes a mendicant who loses sense of worldly responsibilities is often praised for the effort. Whereas an addict is looked down upon and cursed for wanting the same state of Nirvana that the Mendicant craves for.
Brahmand = Universe
JataDhari = The one with matted hair
Rudraksh = A stone with blessed qualities
Sometimes an introduction ruins the readers appeal of the painting his brain paints. This will hopefully not do the same.

Formless wild smelling smoke
Dance around your halo
Adorning the masculinity of your blue skin
Locks spill in watery dross of the soul
Across those warm arms that engulf the brahmand

Sip my subtle poisons
O ‘ Jatadhari, lock me in your third gaze
Of sheer destruction.

In a coil of scoffing serpents,
You lay, cross legged
As they slide to make
A path for you.

As the perditions of the past
Sway in your honor,
At your bidding of doom

Anklets adorn your feet
Music of which bind
Me in womanly stupor

Awakening flames of
Frictional dust that gather
To bring upon a storm of death
That circle your feet
To stir calamity in mortality

The aura of the dull rudraksh
A tenfold blinding ray of
Psychedelic pink and crimson hues
Beckon, as your offerings we gather

As you raise spirits of the dead
In the power that burst through
The pearly drops of sweat
That dribbles down, due to immortal trance.

The moon contributes to your
Addictive daze.
As shades of grey intensify
The passions of scarlet red.

As numbness courses through the veins
They are silenced in slumber
Blazing through the body
In rushes of divine heat
I sway to symphony of
The swell and fall of
Your deep breath.

They engulf you in tides
Of bright white light
Waves of crystal blue
Lash your body like sprays
Of holy water from the Ganges.

As he ascents the dragons peak
Where blizzards are mocked by soft
The more gentle snow.

He strides right through you
Bursting into plumes of rich color
Leaving you ice cold from within
But a lot less incomplete.

The phoenix ash
Gathers in a small storm
To be born again
As he walked by them

The man burnt his finger
As the stubs singed his skin
I’m an atheist whispered the man to himself.
Pushing thoughts away.

Har Har Mahadev
He said
Puffing hashish
As he slipped back into the spell.

Infertile Widow.

Curl up in those shadows
Walk along the black
Engulfed in its tenacity
Like church bells resonate

Hiding midst shadows,
Where light penetrates
Blossoming lil serpent
Entwines the friars fate.

The God
Embraces the illusionary lair
In hallows of dwindling faith
She walks in
within, writhing in pain.

Dead love now rotting
In the grave of promise,
She strings pearls of hate
To adorn his neck.

The pearls now throttle
Growing tentacles of poison
Leaving lines of misery on his neck
That etched he, had
In her palm at natal
She now gives it back.

Bereft of any
Token to leave behind,
She has nothing to live for
Except her own time.

No naïve chuckles
To fuss upon
Just his hollow laugh
And a few dusty cobwebs
On their betrothed snaps.

Dig deeper into moist clay
sculpt my thoughts,
they seem astray.

Bite the fleeting essence
tis not a wandering butterfly song?
Pluck out her colorful wings.
Jerk my flight and
glue the wings onto me.

There she will lie
in those sheets of time.
Beneath layers of lost sheen
inflaming such soft aroma
the candle light flickers
dancing,teasing
Much to her dismay.

Dim now,
like emptiness of an infertile widow.
The flame lost its way.
Gave away to its momentary lover.
The shrewd blowing wind of promise.
Burnt her out.

She looked around and realised
Her reflection had run away.
Hold on,she ran behind it.
And reached the pond.
Where she saw it dive.
Splashing,bidding to her a mysterious good bye.

-

Farewell my friend.
Ive waited long enough, done my bit.
I just wish you'd have been there.

Meander.

Drape me in sin
Beneath the cloak of stale air
Of the dingy ransack
Of the crème in the sheets
Steal me some reality.
I’ve had enough of possibility
To want to live in the imprints of my gloss on your lips,
The imprint of your foot on my neat
Don’t slide
Its way to conniving of you to leave
Just take one more sip of me
Just take one more sip of me.

Heart Shaped Box

Its like Ive been tailored to adorn the aroma of your manliness.
Plucked out of blossoms, much withering.
Wilted,you painted me black and let me bloom into purple.
As we break into tiny orgasmic cravings.And you rub clay onto my metal.
And mold brittle me.I break again into your palm.Just so that I can be held again.

Breaking Me.

Poor baby.
Victim of child abuse.At the age of 7.
Repeat : at 13.
Fiction: A waif who lived on red ribbon(aids) donation camps.
And all that fight to save that then.
She suddenly lost it to alcohol influence,now.
Even though they claimed she had more common sense.


The glass pieces bent
To be ashamed before
To crawl, she learnt.

Her mind she spent.
To pay them, her bodies rent.

Numbed her mouth
And then her vein
To suck his big cock
And take his pain.

But no
She blew the wind instead
And afloat over pearls
And on red ribbon donations she fed.

He pulled her
To meet the wall
Head, bang on.
Cause she wouldn’t be what he said.

Then a drizzle of sorrow
As the uncle of years before
On that sacred morrow
Burnt her temple
Of scared reserve.
Ashes she gathered
But at that time
To offer a flower
She had none.

And then full blossom
Like spring
Bursting in color and youthful play
She felt her past creep in, with him today.

The spiders collected honey
And the bees spun webs
A cocoon was not enough
To save her
From his nasty breath.


She sunk in air
And borrowed a halo
Broken but still one of its kind
Jaded and engraved in
Sweet time.

Then she stopped her footsteps
And asked him up there
If it was his temple
She took care.
Why wouldn’t those men
Leave their shoes behind?
Why would they burn her wings
And then teach her to fly.

He said, learn
She did.
But to join,
She learnt to join them in their bed.

She closed her eyes
And mocked at him above
Look I shall learn
Holding just onto tomorrow tender.
She knitted winter into a sweater
To wear in summer and
She beat the weather.

But tomorrow, her tomorrow
Him.
Burnt and irrepressive.
Tore her sweater
And spat on it.

And buried her, in her past.
Alone to dig,
Her graveyard
Way before she was due.
It was to prepare her for
What he saw coming,
Now now.

Migrating lil bird he was.
She was the ugly crow.
Used, betrayed.
Drowning in sorrow.


-

She will break it to the world.And she will hold her head up high and walk,after all its no fault of hers.
She will stand and stand tall.Bah.
Whatever.
With some help she will talk about it.
And he will help.Cause the others miserably failed to even see through the situation.
Thanks a lot for understanding and just being fucking there.
Sometimes, that makes a whole lot of difference.

Thanks.
Vikram.
Anushka.
Farzeen.
Arjun.(verymuch)

Thankyou.