Her wounds were slit open,

once too often

under crisp summer suns.

They talked of her in town—


The blood ran dry and changed shades;

blue to black;

black to green.

She lay dying,

observing the dead—


They drew the strings tighter,

how could she paint a white canvas

without access to her hands?


Normality rules the world,

and I wear a black mask.

I am gangrene.


The Break-Up Study

They liked each other;
the beginning was, ‘cool’.
Each had another,
to run to and brood.

Entwined like creepers,
they climbed a wall.
And stone looks pretty,
when leaves crawl.

The support snapped,
and they came falling down.
While the stone lay bare,
a storm washed away the remains-
one day, during the rains.

Necessary Incest

I gave up on failure, 

and it on me. 

We know but our, 

lack of success on this matter. 


She gave up on success, 

it meant but a trophy, 

made of chinaware. 

They but knew, 

the fear of failure as 

a plague struck myth. 


Siblings they are, 

and their trifle with balance, 

is a regular struggle. 

They could kill each other, 

but must choose to die themselves-

an easy escape route 

to the other’s denial of itself. 


Lets talk about strength today, 

I see it in mums eyes , 

and in hers too. 

Mum chose jazz,

she chose a needle.


Our structures remain the same; 

we are the cement that holds the bricks, 

no matter what the shape. 

Their moves on the board were different, 

but the pieces remain the same. 


To be strong, 

is more inevitably survival driven.

To be a woman, 

is to be silent. 


Their silence endures,

the harshest storms. 

This silence is glorified in 

a realm of darkness;

spoken of as a virtue, 

created by norms. 


Their sacrifices are choices, 

they didn’t choose. 

Their love is judged, 

on rituals ought to be performed. 


We are but womenfolk, 

dancing in the moonlight, 

over patriarchal waves,

in cold seas of sharks

and monster creatures,

who wait on our stagnation, 

and inevitable dreary submission,

to the bloodhounds of the sea.


But we will dance, 

every dance it takes, 

to reach the shore. 


Every dance.






Celebrations in Smoke

I look around me,
on a day like this,
and watch fire,
Dance on her grounds.
For the rains have passed,
and her sister has arrived,
in yet another November dry.

I like the sparklers,
in all their colours.
I watch snakes take form,
from ash covered coal.
And there goes Kushka now,
with her paws on her ears.
Let’s shoot guns,
of plastic moulds
and feel powerful,
just once this year.

No, let’s clean our houses,
and set the table
with chicken curry
and and some green label.
Let’s rant about misfortune past.
Let’s celebrate with them;
Oh! light the dynamite,
and let the games begin.

Yet alone in a cave,
rats go crawling,
through meat and bones,
All clad with poison.

And from nemesis,
They shall rise,
possibly in disguise.

4 7, 7 c

Bl74 l8003d
8 c46
59n8gh5 8 kn92
8 l83 8 l83.
f94 c9h343nc3
8s d47nk 9n 5475h
And 8 f94 9n3,
hav3 l9v3d h8m s9.
and 8 hav3 fa8l3d
9nd3 b3f943.

A state of mind,
like this,
Must just exist.
Push it now,
Do not deny,
The mirror cracking,
From side to side.

Oh, coherent I am now,
I didn’t realise,
That it’s convenient to,
Use languages denied,
to say it over,
And simplify it twice.

I lied, I lied,
But can’t deny,
I knew not this,
in a turbulent mind.

I won’t say sorry,
For I love this feeling so.
I know such honesty,
Can never  survive,
In any film
Where I might claim it so.

I speak my mind,
yet know my feelings so.
I am detached from,
disloyalty so.
I wouldn’t beg
Or plead a case,
Where black says black,
There is no grey….

Discover grey,
and in every way,
try admitting it so,
Without white,
Grey cannot stay.

Now let’s get back,
To my incoherence.
8 l8k3 697  s9,
8n 3v346 2a6.
And at this point,
8 b49k3 59days6.


When language fails,
It falls apart.
No coherence.
Just signs.
Take it all  out.
Of but forms I like.
A d so the witch does finally sing,
She chants and swirls,
And scratches a wall,
He  nails but break,
And blood but pours,
When meaning sneaks it way
Into places which u hate so,
I sing no more..
I sing no more..

The mirror cracked,
Fro  side to side,
The lady of Shallot,
Had to look outside.

Tomorrow morrow,
an owl shall cry,
A dish will shine,
Upon the sky…….

When language ….
She can’t…
No w.. z…x..
No y ,
Just I…