Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
You see,
I seem to have caught
the deathly hug of hubris
I know everything
But what does it all mean?
The pleasures of life go right above my head
And time drips from my fingertips
Plip, plop, plip
I am a blip
And this hug,
Why does it make everything so sad?
this is where all the secrets are held
in the smell of yesterday's rain in the air
in the dark, and in that pool
in the little moonlight patch falling on my bed
with the window open and the air cool
and the night young and wild and a fool
midnight in a college dorm room
There’s a bottle of my mother’s love
Sitting on the kitchen table
It’s gone sour
It’s Sunday morning,
In the piercing comfort of a place
I once would’ve called home,
And the world woke up and walked out on me

The aftermath of July grows right outside my bedroom window
While I sit on a desolate strip of imaginary sand,
With my head in a water cooler
As significant as an ill-fated horsefly
We were in a painting, the two of us
She was holding my hand
In the soft glow of our own bodies
And the warmth of her palm
I felt it in my throat, and on my face

We were in a painting, you and me
And the way you lay in my arms
I felt, a stranger in my own home
Who are you, who are you?
In one strange city of love, I found you
More on the theme of paintings
She stands in the distance,
The smell of a memory on her hands
Old blankets and old incense,
Old meals and tangerine melancholy and wick-fire soot,
The smell of sharp turpentine and paint
Reaching for me, like tentacles floating in the air.

She stands in the distance,
Sunbeams dripping from her fingers
She stands, with a question on her face
And I watch her, and I can only imagine
Time standing still, frozen; my soul immortalized in a single stroke of tantalizing yellow
I am made of paint and light.
Radhika Krishna Mar 2021
It's four in the morning
How did I come this far
Things splattered on the ceiling
My limbs all fall apart
It's four in the morning
Where did the sun go now
I gathered all my feelings
I wanted you to know somehow
I told you mother
I've never felt so dark
My hands were shaking
Pale and white and stark
And I dropped the spirits
They came crashing to the ground
I raised my head and felt so dizzy
Oh, all the places the blood had turned and found
It's four in the morning
Now I'm scared of my ceiling
My heart beats in agony
Time only crawls away from me
And on my walls, I find it perplexing
That I see the pictures of another
All the books on the shelves
They seem to be melting into the ether
I keep dreaming of a home
With a traffic light of it's own
All the roads meet their end
At my feet, and it feels set in stone
I've prayed to all my gods from the sky
I've cried my pleas clear and high
Tell me what I have done wrong
My sweet, sweet mother
Oh song of silence, won't you take some rest
For days and days, I've beat my breast
For and end, for and end
I look for the end
Say you'll walk with me mother
I need to find the end
Next page