"chaturanga" poems
I have tried to replace it
with peppermint tea,
I have tried to repress it
with Phenibut and ****
Painting wood the colour of metal,
I moved to erase the splinters
by feigning progression,
whilst all the while
that thorn in my side
became a mental health obsession.
I have tried to better it
with morning walks and coffee,
I have tried to harness it
with Chaturanga and poetry.
Siphoning words through a trusted vessel,
I came to meditate belonging
through crystals and nicotine,
whilst all the while
that space in my bed
could no longer be filled with wine.
I have tried to fulfil it
with an endless stream of ****
I have tried to out-live it,
but always fall asleep by dawn.
Kissing through the sweat of a fever,
I bite my pillow-case and
think of your inner thighs,
whilst all the while
that warmth of touch
is lost to the cold, empty skies.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
body dripping sweat
gently kiss the bamboo mat
in chaturanga
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 1:04 AM UTC