A callous darkness hides in the
Haze of your burnished body
You run your icy fingers through
My gossamer hair and a hazel fuzziness
Leaks through your chocolate eyes.
I mutter silent requests of mercy
As your intrepid skin steals into the
Fragility of my crystal soul, reducing it
To splattered relics of harrowing passion.
Your lust burns like spilled neglect
And tastes like rotten coffee;
With every painful sip that strikes
My lips, it sings  like a sonnet of love
And with every tepid sip that incinerates
My throat, it burns like a gentle eulogy.
You’re the parchment, stealing the
Expressions of my artless love, and
the obsidian ink tattooing my fragile heart
With gestures of an intricately
Woven melody of a foreseen loss.

Come glaze these dark serpentine walls,
With the iridescent kisses of your soul.
My heart is swimming in the calm waters
Of your insatiable mind, my love.
You blaze in the dungeons of my heart
Like a winter wind in a sweltering night
I glide in the blunt blueness of your eyes,
Lost in the translucent clouds of floating melancholy,
I freeze in the stillness of your skin.
The poised moon shies,
Its silver hides in the lining of your
Celestial body. You shine brighter
Than the infernos of passion
You ignite within me.
My limbs are mere meat for foxes and ravens,
As you caress my paralyzed psyche
With your love written in impeccable
Prose. Who are you, calling yourself a
Pariah, travelling with a million stories
Tucked inside the folds of your eye lids?
Come, dip your quill in the very depths
Of my being and weave another symphony.
And maybe, sing to me someday.

You, with your supple and brown leather
I, with my gaze fixed on my father’s pocket
You, peeking out from its corner like a
Child playing hide and seek in a desolate ally
I, like the kidnapper, keeping an eye on your
Fragile movements, waiting for you to stumble
Into a dark corner and into my sinister embrace
So that I could get my ransom inside you, the
Little green strips of paper you contained
Toys, chocolates and kites my father wouldn’t get me.
You, with your expensive sheen, attracting me
To yourself like a gold ring attracting an eagle
Only to disappear as soon as my father left
For work and you, containing an enigmatic exchange
For little candies the definition of bliss to six year old me.
I, with my naïve mind thinking why I would get less
Candies and goodies when you would be frail
And devoid of those thin green leaves.
You, in the possession of my elder brother now
I, eight year old me, wondering if your gauntness
Made my father a dear departed.
You, I didn’t unravel the enigma of your long
Green leaves until I was thirteen and you
Resided in the back pocket of the Khaki trousers
My brother used to wear,
Now Tattered just like your old unkempt skin.
Dear Old Wallet, my dead father’s wallet
I liked you better when you were fat and fit,
Supple and shiny, brimming with coins and green leaves.
And when I  was unaware, little and innocent thinking
You were a miracle for I only wanted toys back then
only to realize I need a lot more
For I am now cold,  fatherless and bankrupt
But you are empty and thin, just like my
Dying mother.

Tiptoeing into the darkness,
I slip on a streak of silver light
I’m falling as aghast as a toddler
My cries, I can hear them now.
I trace the skin of my injured ankle;
I can see its pale olive tone.
My heart clenches with longing,
My eyes burn with reminiscence.
I’ve been a shadow for too long.  
I can see my skin now,
its delicate hue beneath the silver.
How could I forget I was an entity of flesh too?
I feel the hostile cold seeping into me,
I can hear the voices
I can feel them luring me into the chasm again.
I fight back with my conscience,
however wretched it may be.
Today I decide to abandon the black.
Today I decide to worship the silver crescent.
I can’t see it yet,
but I can feel its inviting presence.
I chase the silver streak
The symphony of hope gets louder as I walk.
The darkness threatens me;
I’ve been clad in it for so long,
I wonder if I shall perish under the moon.
I feel something gnawing at my toes
I can feel the oozing moist crimson.
But I’ve been haunted by silence for too long,
I’ve been blinded by frozen shadows for an eternity.
I’ve suffered too many unhealed cuts,
I’d rather have myself turn to dust
I shall have it ambushed by the phantoms of light instead,
I’ve wrestled with cold demons enough
Continuing on my pursuit of escape,
I hear echoes of despondent screams,
the same ones that have always haunted me.  
I let the warrior in me prevail
Soon my gaze greets the luminous crescent;
I know I’ve finally found my way out.
I let the cold seep into my heart
I let it choke me with the brunt of solitude.
Now I can feel myself escape,
I am soaring high into the sky
And beneath me, my pale carcass rots.

Even my shadow seems golden in the abyss that I call my residence;
even the water seems solid, frozen by silent darkness.
My screams seem like whispers,
their echoes alone reside with me.
A pariah in misery, clad in the darkness of despondency,
I shrivel like a dying flower with every passing moment.
I am my own confidant,
I am my own adversary.
Since, I am trapped alone in this dark monotony.  
I calm myself with the vanishing memories of summertime kisses;
I hurt myself with a hope of an escape.
With bites inflicted by my own teeth,
I’m a carnivore for my own flesh.
Yet my hunger is rendered frail,
since I still cage my soul inside this torturous chamber of flesh and blood.
I’m an unskilled hunter,
longing for my prey.
I still breathe breaths of biting indifference.
The unforgiving air slices my trachea like a sharp metal,
yet the cuts aren't lethal enough,
to free the trapped bird that my soul is,
yet the crimson isn't abundant enough to choke my lungs in my own misery.
The cage formed by my bones,
still restrict its flight.
Perhaps I will be my own escape.
Perhaps I will free the melancholy bird,
without the ****** of my tainted body.
But I am a reckless mother,
who let her child fall into this labyrinthine chasm.
I’m the almost lover,
guilty of somebody else’s union with darkness.

My carcass remains bruised and broken,
yet it is not putrid.
I still exist,
but in a different form.
The dark entities now rejoice,
for they are free to dance around me.
Embracing darkness with open arms,
I see no golden shadow anymore.
Since the light responsible for it being cast,
was extinguished by my own sinister blood.
Its golden ember now lost in crimson.
And that is how;
I witnessed my shadow’s demise.

Misery haunts me like a vengeful lover’s phantom
Grey clouds of solitude drench me with the rain of cold silence.
The thunder startles my vision with its sudden piercing vibrancy,
but the accompanying sound is inaudible to my ears.
Perhaps the deafening screams of my soul have rendered them useless.

Misery bites into my flesh like a famished Hellhound
the crimson of unrequited love bathes it mercilessly.
Its dagger like fangs bite into my calf,
but the accompanying feeling of pain on my skin is nonexistent.
Perhaps the innumerable pinpricks inflicted by words have rendered it numb.

Misery paints me like a mournful artist,
into the monochromatic shades of abandonment.
The slicing strokes of his brushes, highlight crimson suffering,
but the accompanying cries of bitter pain are not possessed by my throat.
Perhaps the incessant demands of respite made by it have rendered it sore for an eternity.

Misery slithers inside my nostrils like a toxic repulsive snake.
Trails of blue betrayal are left by its slimy flesh while it travels to my lungs.
Its venom covers my nerves in the burning sensation of ridicule,
But the accompanying smell of approaching death seems absent
Perhaps the putrid smell of my burning conscience has rendered my senses immune.