The crimson canopy bleeds out its light,
to clear the stage for an eternal night.
We misread beauty in the dying leaf,
a gilded cover for a timeless grief.
For every joy is a borrowed loan,
and autumn reaps, to turn earth to stone.
The twilight deepens, cold and unappeased,
as life surrenders to a slow disease.
No sanctuary stands against the frost,
which counts the tally of the loved and lost.
The heavy fog absorbs the last faint ray,
and suffocates the memory of day.
The branches reach like skeletal despair,
to pull the pitch-black sky into the air.
Whatever shined was merely an illusion,
a brief distraction from the dark’s intrusion.
The final ember drops into the deep;
the void reclaims the promises we keep.
So let the shadows drink the remaining red,
for all things good belong among the dead.
Black-blue paint bleeds from within the cracks of crumbling cement walls,
Crushed skeletons infused within limestone erode,
exposing nameless sorrow hidden behind faceless grains of gypsum,
while a forgotten galaxy's celestial ceiling peers through a decaying thatched roof.
Misguided souls reach out into night's void,
screeching repeated sins into feverish gusts of wind,
tethered to each rusting rebar that's barely holding what was once their haven together,
unable to let go, doomed to relive past grievances.
Weathered spiral staircases lead towards nowhere.
Bleakness suffocates while hope is snuffed out,
like the wick of bitter candles drowning in their own wax.
Spinning surrealistic scenes melt into intangible realities,
each soul writhing in agony, trying to break free of abject cycles,
yet punishment clings like the smell of burnt tobacco,
unable to separate the scent from the fibres of existence.
Disembodied voices find no reprieve,
only more excruciation
at the hands of cruel judgement.
I see the pain.
I feel the fire in my throat that chokes and suffocates .
With love ,with laughter ,with the silent cries at night.
As people comes as people goes .
Would they remember my name at night .
When one day can turn into one decade .
When they’re old and lived their lives .
Would they remember my name?
Would they only see the smile that never connects?
Would they hear the laugh that felt real?
Nor would they cry with sorrow and heavy heart.
Then covers me with tulips and Lillie’s
Or Will they remember me when there’s only ash of the girl that only felt the pain that suffocated her?
It’s back again
Stronger than ever
Can feel it eating away at me
As it gives me a feeling
Is it true?
Did I misinterpret?
Misguided feelings
It all feels the same
I feel alone
But I’m not cold
It suffocates as it watches
Waiting to see me break
I think I’ll give in
This has no logic
But is understood perfectly
From a perspective
I’m blinded by it
Losing my way as I spiral
I wish I could meet, the source of this pain
But alas I can’t
I’m stuck
Feel like I’m in mud
The feeling gives both pleasure and pain
I don’t mind the first, despise the other
Tried to break free
Tried to forget
Tried to lose myself
But it kept getting real
Vivid imaginations constantly
Of a union that may never happen
I turn and hold my chest
At the thought that I can’t make it real
Constant meet ups with no actual linkups
Always on my mind
Every waking breath
Makes God jealous
Feels like sin
I can’t deny that
But it feels like purpose
A peek in a future
But this future is on a cliff
Waiting to be saved or pushed
Forever held dear or forgotten
Accepted or denied
Why do I choose this?
Why do I suffer?
Why do I endure?
Why do I Love her?
The room speaks for itself -
It doesn’t speak at all
It exists, without breath
Silence suffocates -
The room is empty,
Not because of lack of people,
But because it lacks presence,
Something - or someone is missing,
The scent of death lingers
People crowd the room,
Yet loss consumes -
For now the room becomes a tomb,
A place cursed by harsh truths
A boy is gone,
Killed by a system -
Who criminalised colour,
The knock at the door, still echoes,
Haunted by the ghost of a warmth long gone
The room is still,
As if death has claimed the space,
Misery loves company -
And it’s favourite company - grief
I'm scary summer visit once a year
with fierce countenance I always appear
Dry up all sources by sucking water
Day by day shoot up hotter and hotter
My infant days warm, cosy, and cheerful
when days pass by, I turn into fearful
My aura haunts even after sunsets
And the suffocative weather upsets
Burst opening the charcoal doors of night
Emerge with the gleam of chandelier light
Like a vicious dragon, I diffuse fire
None dares to encounter my severe ire
My scorching and charring hot weather chokes,
Squeezes, suffocates and perspires the folks
End to end whipping waves sprawled and enclosed
Everywhere stringent curfew terms imposed
Panicked birds stop singing and hide in trees
Tired cattle stay in shades of trees and wheeze
People gulp to quench their enormous thirst
Scared veterans shut up indoors coerced
Light and simple cotton clothes people drape
Lemons and melons to beat and escape
offering a fun they gather at pools
Enjoying ice-creams children bunk their schools
Place : 1 st
When Ben hen clock strikes one , Smoke is coming like a gun, It suffocates and makes me run, Grandma's soul stands like a nun, It wakes me from bed like the sun , And dad snored too loud to stun.
My fury for you is more than reasonable
I believe I’m healed until the seasons start to change
To the holidays
It creeps on, then suffocates me
Gasping for air yet again
Trying to catch myself before the walls cave in
To you, I was your play thing
Porcelain
A beauty with eyes grown cold
Your claws tainting my youthful soul
My beautiful skin
Dressed to your wishes
My hands gaze toward the tenderness of life’s flow.
My heart, beating before the breath,
Serenity runs through my blood
As I begin to discover my senses—
And all that I have ever felt was made of water.
I instantly inspire fire’s burning rays,
Before the water tests its melancholic phase,
After air suffocates in faded absence,
Die in despair from cognitive dissonance,
Within matter—by its essence.
Reaching the higher purpose,
Oneness in openness,
Solace in sadness,
Harmony in chaos.
Dear fear, you shall never feel
Your bouncing heart’s
Ultimate explosion—
Coded in motion,
To fulfill the concept of emotion
By the name of paradox
With galaxies’ devotion
And void’s lotion,
To attend higher vision,
Sight of God’s precision.
Let the heart choose,
Let the earth bruise,
Let me lose—
Or be lost in those eyes of yours.
and void's lotion
to attend higher vision
sight of god precision,
Let the heart choose
Let the earth bruise
Let me lose
Or be lost in those eyes of yours.
On scarred walls, memory torn apart,
Stones bleed the wear of harsh surrender,
Blood flows where echoes turn violent,
While disgrace suffocates all humankind.
Iron bites, the smell of lead commands,
Terrorist — the pain charged with disbelief,
In law’s name, peace is murdered outright,
Ashes speak, indifference is alliance.
Devouring colonialism, mask of innocence,
Justice bends beneath the shadow of pacts,
A martyr land, handed to its killers.
Behind every barricade, rage stands clear,
Survival refuses to become patience,
And souls ignite in the refusal of fate.
our love was a corpse
left to rot in the gutter
festered wounds seeping rot
the stench of our decay
clings to our skin
i am the undertaker
burying the bones of our love
the memories haunt me
like ghosts in the morgue
silence suffocates
a veil that wraps around
our necks, squeezing tight
the truth of our demise
in this darkness, we find
the art of our pain
a canvas of shattered souls
where love once dwelled
now we're left to drown
in the void of our own making
the weight of our regret
crushing us, bone by bone
and when the darkness claims us
our own hands will be the ones
that bury us
Hope, that has kept me alive
Hope, that has kept me sane
Hope, that made me insane
Hope, that allows me to breathe
Hope, that suffocates me
Hope, that my child survives
Hope, that makes me breathe
Hope, that the sun shines tomorrow
Hope, that it rains on time
Hope, that the birds wake up again
Hope, that I am alive tomorrow
Hope, that my body doesn’t rot
Hope, that you exist
Hope, that our eyes met
Hope, that you shared what i felt
Hope, that I will make it through
Hope, that I won’t jump out of a building tomorrow
Or take rat poison or gas myself
Hope, that things don’t turn too much
Hope, that I make it through
Hope, that I will wake up again
Hope, that you will read this
Hope, that I am dead
Hope, that I am alive
Hope, that my dead body still breathes
Hope, that I don’t kill myself tomorrow
Naked and Revealed,
Sexy or Lewd,
What can I do
If I have them on me?
Inseparable, heavy beads,
Bulgy with shady teats.
All you care:
Is it concealed well beneath bra strips?
Gasping for breath,
Sharp stabbing in my breasts,
Lying on the bed,
Nausea till my neck -
All due to the unbearable clasp at the chest.
Tell me,
Is it still my fault,
If a brassiere is not enough for my ample busts to exalt?
Should I cut them?
Or should I burn them?
Since I can't stop their charming dance,
For those
Who only know how to objectify and sexualize their existence,
Without any rightful cause.
It's all you care about.
Maybe what suffocates isn't the bras,
But the disgust for what's beneath them -
And that's what I care about.
Anxiety is like obsidian piercing my heart a thousand times,
As a king snake contracts against my tired heart muscles.
It can be as simple as a cheetah flying off the ground,
As it chases its prey with a wild, frantic need.
It can be a sledgehammer pounding against my brain,
Or a bunch of sharp nails messaging my eyes.
Anxiety is a hands that wrap around my throat,
As it begins it suffocates me with a crushing grip.
At times I feel like I've been shot by an arrow so deep in my arms,
As the pain shoots up and down, numbing my palms.
Or it can be as simple as the toilet calling my name,
Anxiety, oh, it’s never quite the same.
At times, it feels like it could one day be the end of me,
As obsidian pierces, the king snake constricts.
I struggle to be free,
But it still keeps chasing right after me.
In dark rooms where silence flows like a river of ink,
I sit alone, wrapped in the solitude of Monday mornings,
While presidents speak of honor, culture, and dedication,
And their words are echoes lost in the vastness of a gray sky.
Sadness weighs on my soul like a shadow stretching over an empty field,
My manliness suffocates me, stripping away any illusion of pride,
As time slips through my fingers like the fine sand of an hourglass,
And I feel understanding drifting away like a mirage in the hot desert.
My glass empties, leaving me to contemplate the silent abyss of decisions,
I must choose between the company of those who drink to soothe despair,
Or seek out storekeepers who will never publish my unspoken poem,
A poem unraveling like a forgotten dream on the edge of endless mornings.
In this melancholy, my thoughts are birds flying toward the lost horizon,
And with each beat of their wings, they leave behind unfulfilled desires and hopes,
While I, in my dark room, listen to the silence whispering stories to me,
Stories of days that will never come, of moments that remain suspended.
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