I reach into the theatre of my own world,
when I closed my eyes.
No tickets, just 3D glasses;
I see those lips like rosebuds peeping out of snow,
Would not want to rest in momentum but
wishing to rest upon yours.
That thunder, those slaughtering rain,
and us…
Slow, tender, smooth, buttery moving
Senses to bone, Egypt to the Rome.
Inside? like a train,
whistling, juggling, building up momentum,
Outside? building up moments.
I can feel the taste of those rain
that grows louder when our tongues curled.
Where the world is half asleep,
I feel the shade we held as our world.
Oh those dripping avalanche under your neck,
I feel like skiing my lips and wish to fall
from that cliff.
Oh mine to the yours, yours to the mine,
beating in a sync,
as our body dances on those riff.
City lights and those witty nights,
Hug tights and butterfly flights.
I felt the interval none to happen.
I have come to realize;
there’s two shades of you.
One that my mind creates and the
one where my heart reciprocates.
One that has kept me walking
from the misery of those thoughts,
to the one float-breating over
these sinking hearts.
I have come to realize to this day.
These shades have let led me sway.
Whether or not we feel like we are Away.
Why do I feel like there’s always A-Way?
Let’s change the science of darkness to be seen.
I choose to colour those shades:
one purple and the rest would be green.
I suddenly woke up,
in a hot sunny 2 pm where
my dreams were high with opium,
Everything felt so me,
everything felt so we,
but everything went so flee,
in a hot sunny 2 pm.
In a hot sunny 2 pm,
I feel so small in the room what feels like a hall,
everything feels falling, the remains are nothing but wall.
I am now nothing but a lonely bleeding rose,
but still I’m who stands proud in her shrubs
no matter that she is red,
red of blood, red of her so many sacrifices
that she made to others
just to bring them a small smile.
She is red in blood, yes..
she is in pain but,
in the eyes of others she is full
and beautiful and innocent,
and yet somewhere proud
and cold.
But only one of those can sense her fear,
can smell her sacrifices,
can see her smothered all in blood,
bruised and unloved,
and only he would gently pick her up,
harvest her, cultivate her and heal her
and again love and devote to her
for whole his life,
whole his soul.
I’m a Raven, filled with raze.
I’m a Ravan, skilled in ways.
Hands so tight as silver maiden,
what i touch is what it fades.
Filled in a fluffy, thats so hard to wade.
Dived much in my own lust,
My body and my soul gets laid.
In a Journey of wild islands,
each one feels new.
Big logs to big folks,
Big talks to big shots,
everything shiny, everybody polished.
And I’m just diving in an uncanny
finding the fin that fits me,
riding the skin that suites me.
countless starts but what wins me?
Murmuring in the mesh, I feel:
It’s not about beginnings,
it’s about Big Innings.
I wanna walk, step by step with you.
I wanna hold your hands side by side to you.
But my one is your four.
And my hands barely reach the shore.
I will make my one down to two,
Can you make your four meet me, too?
And only the steps we take
will be the magic we bake.
And only the hands we hold,
will create the moments we fold.
Do words really matter?,
when the silence is all I want.
Not the one when hearts faints.
But the only when soul mates.
Not the one when voices blocked,
But the only when lips locked.
Not the one when entanglement sucks,
But when the lonely flourishes flocks.
My words seems stuck to commute.
But silence can move you,
even when it’s mute.
The psychics said that Maira was being attached
by an angry ghost
because she had been a witch in a previous life.
During her witchery, she has killed a person,
and that person’s spirit held a grudge.
The ghost planned to hunt Maria for her entire life.
That life was sadly short.
Maria poisoned herself when she was sixteen.
When she was gone, all activity stopped.
I am Maria in this life.