I could ignite the lingering spirits on my breath, to delight in the taste of death at midnight; entrusting the right of life to be caressed by bony fingertips and dressed in denial. Inside a specter writhes homing in on the heart’s reprise as it aches from deprival of the love it needs to survive. My crumbled chest rivaled with loneliness can depress the spinal sparks that decipher pain from hieroglyphs; message my brain in simple sentences, pay me with imprisonment. The final toll has long since passed despite flowing sands in the hourglass. Cracked are my lips as they slither in secrets, arrest my thoughts for they’re bound to regress into animalistic urges as the sun disfigures herself against the horizon she dies on and purges the deified notion of immortality. Demise resides inside, a parasite of time that no one shall defy. Intangible and fixed, yet unable to predict. Deep and soft it leaves its mark, like a sensuous kiss.

-SLuR

Why do we carry this language of blame
Describing our keys to survival?
Subsist and survive are not really the same
The latter complexion, more skin in the game
Not best-life but rest-life deprival

How can we cope in inflexible ways
When bad comes with real consequences?
Surely attaining more subsequent days
Shows that our coping is worthy of praise
Extended, effective defences

When can we grant ourselves residency
With normal societal backing?
Without the heretical hesitancy
But carrying coping more elegantly
Set free from self-tackling attacking

       Can we retell our histories
       Including the victories
       Earned by our damaged main actor?
       Are social consistencies
       Issuing injuries
       Skipping the benefit-factor?

Behaviours may surface inexorably
No use in my current rendition
But very successful in rescuing me
And thus, I will carry them generously
Admit that I needed them desperately
       But not in my present condition
Release them with grateful permission

Just got to get my garden neat
To get rid of unwanted herbs and nest
But as I pulled the plants so small
something stuck my throat and swell...

Is it the cry of the plants ?
Just come out to breath a life
To see the rain and sunshine
And dance to the tiny breeze
Dreaming to rise and raise...

"Pull them off" heard a voice
Mind clouded with various noises
Won't it be a deprival of right to live
So tiny and just born to live..

"Won't it pain them" , if pulled out
Took the leaves and and held it out
Looked and looked till tears filled
"No"....I can't destroy or pull
Any lives that's creation of nature
For in them hold nature's future.....!!

I don't mind my garden being imperfect
Sometimes imperfections add beauty  so perfect !!!