Her lips looked like two lakes
smothered in blood,
and her laughter; an act of splitting the sea in two,
the brushed teeth – soft salty shore
the widened mouth – its split
the emitted sounds echoed – fluctuating waves

Her breath was that of the
water particles; the sky its destination,
sunny, humid, a blessing – showers, blistering rain

Her anger, lightning bolt, contagious, unwelcoming
inflicting sickness thereafter
a-choo, a-choo, another,
spreading quickly then quicker,
causing a quiver, a stutter, an utter
“stop. Bring us blood again,
lakes of blood again”

willingly, submits, humming chirps of birds,
she announces
the end – an eventful beginning
sun rising, rainbows forming, she is laughing.
Again. The sea is splitting, again.

His chest moves
upwards then inwards
as a man
would wave
from left to right,

when every breath he borrows
from the atmosphere
is returned
back to where
it once came from.

His mind presents itself
as a knot
to untie
rather than a melody
to twirl to,

And perhaps, this is why
he snores asleep.
Every ten minutes : A Thunder
striking for a second
or two.

He resembles a glass of water
in which the liquid seems clear
though present,
eventually evaporating
as the tasks
he ticks of the lists
every time
his eyes wake

from the dilemma
of justice
in a city
degrading
the artists and the painters,
the poets and the dreamers,
the physicists and the biologists,

whilst praising
corporations handing titles to
women as
inert particles
flying off a boiling ***,
and men,
as the controllers
in a virtual video game,

He wasn't dreaming.

every time I speak
to your best friend

I pray to every Aztec God
and once holy Pharaohs
and stones worshiped
on this planet that
he tell me you are nearby,
or that this was all a big sad joke,
or a prank

or that you would come back
but no.

I feel like my emotions
are no longer under my control
because once all I felt was love
and sadness would only hit me
when I’d go back home.

Little did I know you were a nest ,
I was a bird and every night
I would sleep on a branch that wasn’t my own,
because darling, you are home.

you’re the light
radiating from a light bulb,
in a dark dust-filled room,
the molecules of air
become visible
when you look their way,

they appear as floating
clouds of pixels,
as though we’ve discovered
the software room
of existence
---
you look away
on the wall,
and I hope you realize
darling, I see none
but what your eyes
view, because light
still radiates from you
in this room,

you see a wall
cracked, grey, with Roman letters,
and I see
the Trevi fountain of Rome,
perhaps a little romance
would do us no harm  
---
you look my way,
with eyes so bright,
and my vision deteriorates
unable to see anything
like a car nearing
in the middle of the night,
and its head lights flashing,
blinded I become.

possibly looking into your eyes
blinds me,
and white all I see--
darkness.
---
I blink, once and again,
now,
I see vivid purple and blue
figures, faint
from looking your side for far too long.

(Ajna)

and perhaps,
this is how I love you,
everything I see
beams with happiness
as though the only Chakra
elevated is Anahata,
but when you leave,
my vision blurs,
and I never see the same again.