My dear, we've seen the script and its selfish attraction.
I am for taking, and you want it to part.
Liquefying every thought, this is a challenge within me to
Keep your flowers in bloom for another battle.
No guard Of mine will come down willingly.
A rigorous assignment, you are the light
In this bloodshed I courtesy before.

I haven’t fallen to my knees,
This showdown is to my senses what candle wax is to
Your skin.
Give me a clock, I have to elaborate further.
Simplicity is torture for theories I’ve tested on all the refined.
So
What eye fury will you play for me today.
How bewildered you are
That I’ve come around again, with artillery sharp on my glances
And to your cautious smile
Believe me, you will love me
Even more.
How sweet I find you tucked under
Blanket.water spills, leaking through the mattress. I idolize; you’re irate.
This moment is my fever
Of passion and rage.
The greatest form of love is to rid
You of tranquility.

i am to be, just a mixture

my blue ink mixed with
this red
platter which your dagger
sits upon.
and where does my heart keep its
beating, at which speed to your words
does it dance to.
and how many nights
do i remind you of.

melancholy skies
i sleep with.
i used to write him love letters,
but they take too much of
space. and these pen marks
stain too
permanently.

all that keeps me is
my portrait of youth.
a once happy
bus ride,
a friend to braid my hair,
and a strangers smile as
i am human, not to
eat for pleasure. 

pomegranate 2

grandma stirs her soup
with vigor pulsating through her
veins.
the screams of her bones from
work to
sustain,
and i sit near the window with
my books
clutching to some
word to fill
any void.

pomegranate,

smear

cut,

glide from

ashes of temples

in my land,

where women carry houses

on their backs,

and this blood stain

looks a

armor

on my heart.

scriptures we

recite

over dinner to

life, and keep living

because surviving is

all that

is necessary for us

to occupy

the space that was

taken from my

mother's hands

and her mothers

home.

and my eyes

too terrified

to

fight my father.

but loud enough

these marks of bruises

hold tight

to my identity. 

and in silence I've held

peace in captivity 

around me and in my arms,

a thought of security.

and what i was is

where i stood,
and what i am is
all to love.
and what i am is
all i love.

and i'm from, and i was born, in this home.

embellished like a noose - words to recite
over and over to your democratic pleasure.
the metal grating of caskets piled for
blessing your sons for fighting, and the women who gathered
upfront, now strip to
wet tongues. men who garnish their coats with
patriots bones
the factory will sleep only when all have been disposed, wrapped
around your flag and its
prose.

i thought to live,
so i am. 

i think this is love: that i stand
instead of crawl. 

on this sharp
edge, as my  

wrinkles get deeper
and laugh lines 

turn gray
on asphalt. 

i still am,
living.

you,

crimson night

flavoring on our tongue.

where you sleep

i love on this side,

in curling 

to yours,

bodies in silence

of the boldest buds.

insecurity,

lost on my woman outline -
none but bitter bones and
fragments of lost poems.

every face i sew to
tie to my worth, as my own home
feels abandoned.

if i could be covered in marigold,
to paste on october's sky, never-ending
month of transformation
death
and rebirth.

i wait until i grow as sharp as nails,
sleek as love.

with fever - this heat on the fingers
of insecurity, rising heavenly with every breath.
i watch the eyes slither
down -
run tricks to use.

only this brain throbbing
its glory,
kiss this dome! i
screech loudly. 

the first murder

who took you in and breathed you afloat.
dreams of
kills to gut
your wrenching songs,
nights to run into
the arms of
bliss.
and quiet streets to
encourage of sin,
these wishes to wash with.

again,

the crash.
to learn, i do.
of lies, in this wound,
where salt
gathers in slow
winding
burn.
like yours, from tongues
splitting my
insides of
reason.
greeting of your sadism
to my
temple.

on a post it

i'm paying too much to live.
life has expensive written all over my
skin. every day a part of me goes down with the sunset, and the sunrise
is as faded as the color of my hair.
 piling of money sits on the inside of my stomach, growing to tumors
i have to remove. the quest to buy for my value, and the value
is more than i can afford.

my smile takes exhaust over me,.
probably better tucked under dimness, where this introvert plays.
down the street of my youth
i left behind silence. no longer on mute,
i will give you the loudest headlines.
ambition depends on stability, and practically speaking -
to wake up with the desire to live
is a better toast.

rose petals i have collected still smooth over pages,
their soaking fragrance,
like love i once treasured still in the back of my throat,
sometimes in gasps i feel his name,
desire to fire, but no.
i have maintained the will to hurt.
i am gravitational. all the idiosyncrasies for you to sample from.
take one dose today, leave parts for your next adventure.

there are only a few nights i taste
chamomile tea and warm the
mind of its of bareness.
the most expensive road to recovery cannot
fulfill me. i am a doctor's worst note and their best
experiment. and the music keeps repeating, and i keep
drinking one pill after another.
somewhere in there i
s the reminder i live.

vows,

there goes a birthday cake
leftover on the table.
another unwashed plate
nicotine stains the walls,
and she would rather envelop on the couch to dream.
a kiss to forget your shadows
someone left behind their mind.
only panic in the dark room,
where an armor of dissent wallows.
the shattering of plates over his head,
and the last Christmas picture to send out to friends.

one take,
bad smile.
two take,
i blinked.
three take,
battery died.
and i knew i should have never vowed to make a family.

silhouettes of our imagination hang and i develop snap shots of our goodbye.

d n a

grabbed on to your dress, mother I attach to
the rotten in every sharp angle.
roots in soil I dampen, cheapen your
motherhood. no trophies of mine adore your
palms. an exquisite longing –
to be unplugged from out under
this breath, of constraints you present as
love.

tips run on skin,

his song -
for my troubled child,
a soft sedation to hands in tremble -
and the sheets we dream on /in flagrante/
to the widest eyes.
softest of his burns
awake me.
i am an ache to his mutable charm. 

the words 
of his offering heave up
my throat in delight. chain me to 
logic, i'm yours to work to 
clocks' strike, until midnight and 
afternoon is bright, 

that body was built to 
weigh down on mine, each syllable offered 
i play on my tongue down his
chest 
and up the spine. 

lay me down to 
the dark in your infatuation, your hands to 
the marks on my skin speak 
vigorous.
your laughter echoes on the walls, 
sweat to wine
and i taste 
fever. the bitter of grapes and 
sugar canes from those lips
to fill me.

full, i take the gardens you grow 
for me, to ease my flaws
and
all.

надеюсь

mother,
sweet turbulence,
i see distortion, static
on what used to be.
what Red Square where drinks and bottles of empty futures
could have been.
uncovered ruins, to flickers of art flourishing on despondence.

and ice winter days where the heart beats
only to survive.
what life?
they write on walls : graffiti crumbles
for the oligarch.
attached by his side the blood of a child's
awakening.

why i knew what i knew, but saw what few saw.
how did i think all to myself in that tundra of lies.

faces in yearning, painted vastness
in the corner of the iris -
and you are supposed to stand for something
greater than. fetching years of sadness, love inflamed with
raw.

mother,
i am left to shatter for affection. your stories
gather cold on the outer of my skin. so i draw the expression
of the cities charm. something history left out midst all
the desecrated bodies.

this and that, and what i am told to deem the
truth about myself.
where do i come to finally accept

the home i breathe.

grandmother's wish

the sweetest of coffee brew feels like a
gentle mind to an insomniac. the lush encompassing
of fragrant berries, and as though i'm wearing
the clouds for drapery.

just last week i had five reasons to die. all of which in the end, kept me
alive. in its trunk bed of paralysis, the hope that carried with
it -
the laughter of my grandmother.

i am floored by her side, in memoriam, to adorn
this womanhood i once saw as burdens, and dance on -
once concrete tiles of revolutions, now, remnants of
the left behind. my duty,
i guess
i have no choice but to
life.

ode,

white hot to the touch, resentment’s song leaves the
coldest palette to sample from. and what delights to
the hearts conditioned response, memories bitter
the tongue.

i take a last breath
and pray my wounds will be tended to, kindly
wrapped in bandages from judgement’s scold.

but what was love to me if not a series in parts of venom. silk to skin on ice patches to your bedroom.
and where boredom took you to scenery - you played to my body’s precision.

revenge, with its finger of a doctor’s curiosity, how sly it inserts to my pleasure. what can i destroy for tomorrow’s ripeness. to take your shade of elation.

it should be mine!

my love should have, fed, could have, fed, should have -

left you on coals. in my eyes. for my eyes.

how long does the encore fulfill? of arousing temperament that fuels weeks, and so i stay weak. how long does truth take to heal. a relinquishing of power, i sleep on nails to which you left in

perfect symmetry.

hospital visit no.5 (suicide crescendo)

listen to the drop of a maddening smile, like pins
in hush night.
where to, on the staircase,
splat forth
in desire.
free mind! look at me now daddy,
everything is mine to
stop and conquer.
laugh and surrender.

conversations on the sky - with my hands as the
firmest destroyer, we take past fight or flight. is this how life tastes at
the end of the chapter.
pupils' ruby horizon, convulsion clings to grasp what the
lungs no longer.
and so to weep.
I've trained to fight
survival.

come to, pulsation in lights, and
my head just wants a belly’s warmth to curl to.
wrap its solitude in bellowing
howls.

the freedom of fires’ escalation,
do not address me weak, nor bold.
take your rational spoons medication,
black tar on my skins’ hold -
and fill your selfish hope to its brink of finale.
there is no more for you to speak of.
not of my endless body.

and who could carve a breath 
of a sculpture erupting, 
to gasp for life before 
the plunge to 
irreversible. 

magenta frost, and i'm slick to your body
wishful lover, wrapping silk around
my slumbered morning