Claustrophobic, saturated white walls constrict,
sucking the oxygen from every molecule of deprived blood.
Hypoxic cells circulate through an increasingly unstable body,
whilst rivulets of sweat flow from clammy palms.
Insomniac reality blurs with insidious shadows,
dancing upon the ceiling.
Naive faith keeps insanity just at bay,
but with each sunrise, hope is chipped away.
How much longer can a soul survive without respite
before it splits open—
spilling into the realms of delicious delusion?
Counting spots of dust in sunlight streams
now becomes the norm.
Two hundred yesterday—
is that two hundred and four today?
Slowly losing grip,
twisted nursery rhymes play out in a fracturing mind:
One, two, no one is going to save you.
Three, four, get ready for the relentless gore.
Five, six, they will play with your bones like sticks.
Seven, eight, for this occasion you better not be late.
Nine, ten, you are now in their sadistic den.
Praying for sleep, it never comes,
as reality dissolves
and this phantasmagorical nightmare commences.
Categories:
hypoxic, conflict, dark, gothic, horror,
Form: Prose Poetry
Stardust blankets lacrimosa skies,
a requiem of times gone by.
The taste of late summer nights still lingers on bittersweet lips,
yet somehow, now, it’s become stale—like blue cheese and old pickles.
A crisp breeze cascades from the north,
ushering in the dawn of autumn.
Vivid memories begin to fade from lucidity.
Crystal droplets fall from despondent eyes,
puddling around forsaken feet.
Swimming in grief, struggling to breathe,
I begin drowning in agonized anguish.
Reaching out for you, my fingers crumble within my grasp,
for ghosts can’t pull you from the plunge.
As emotions overwhelm with every heartbeat,
I sink further into this beckoning night,
my soul crashing under increasing pressure.
Flickering recollections fade in and out of view—
hypoxic, flesh turning blue.
Muscles tighten, flinch.
Clenching my chest, cardiac arrest imminent,
for your untimely demise was my fatality.
Categories:
hypoxic, deep, gothic, imagery, night,
Form: Free verse
Solfatara plays lumen,
Air hypoxic rites death,
Fumarole punches the stomata,
Coldness fired leaves,
Joy!
A run amok storm dragged trunks,
The warrior of plantae,
Majesty of a tropical mountain,
Every berry has glory,
Hail!
Categories:
hypoxic, environment, universe,
Form: Canzone
We swim in slime of a kakristocracy.
Its murky yet neon green; with radioactive counterfeit dollar bills.
These waters are toxic; it's inhabitants littered and hypoxic.
Ethnocentric, psychographic, demographic divides each line in it's Net worth catch.
Yet there is a falling cascade.
A where about place where Seahorses galavant.
There can be no chuevinism; where she provides and he bears his own legacy.
The Stud and his Mare.
Subsequentially inside a tsunami, crashing down on a barren coral reef.
Even in these tumultuous times, he will ask for her egg and she shall concede.
Now wading in the torrents of a dream; they and their offspring, sleeping peacefully beneath the Stampede.
Categories:
hypoxic, america, analogy, children, environment,
Form: Free verse
If you were oxygen,
then my body would be hypoxic
if you are love
then your love is toxic
if you are a dream
you surely will not come true
perhaps I am a dreamer
though, more likely, a fool
Categories:
hypoxic, abuse, conflict, crazy, fantasy,
Form: Rhyme
Let it remain
ovarian pure. After strangulating
the truth,
for hypoxic euphoria.
Flies in your face
the dirt,
the denial, the terracota
of superposition of speech
hiding self-interest.
Blackened crozier
for wrinkeled crotch
drops the ashes of love
on unopened buds.
Weeping willow sways
in warm winds of prayers.
Strawberry in holes
nothing like bruise.
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
hypoxic, native american, natural disasters,
Form: ABC