a small token of kindness (8th December 2021)
the sun adorns itself with the stomach of the storm, wild with pink carnation embraces and fire of the splintered heart walls. pistachio love and fluttering skies; light a fuel, and a vanishing identity. the devil free to roam, believer a misguidance like a nightingale's sweet talk.
thunderstorms a song, the salt drops lyrics of its ventricular fins and churning sorrows. hills of skeletons, graves of souls; worship of demons and prayers of turbulent stomachs. ink of independence churned into sand and syllables; seas and oceans feasted upon like candied cartilages.
dusk fashioned claws, moon graced rages; the night a dark amaranthus, eyes curtained with sunsets. sugared wounds, salted licks; bothered ruins, hundred layered crescents. existence drowned into rose water, grief and waves floating across the womb of the horizon.
in depths, there are beginnings; under the shadows, in the dark smudges of thirst. contradictory roses, wordless blood, the paintings of the things crushed, the heart lost in a claustrophobic mist . in frozen tears and anarchic quests, awakening tornadoes and pitiful plays; there are rumours of lost minds in the places of death; place of birth, place of raw flesh.
not easy it is to hand over parts that you are blind to, like foreign reds and shivering smiles, a tongue of passion and eyes of morning nights. to give away bricks of home is only a thing of hearts supported by good insides, like the kind sky that tears itself apart to share its home with the world around, like the chaotic dark that resorts to calmness after the moon pecks its way through.
#adropofhumanity
