I wished for a woven sky
to sink into the ground
and choke me with its stitches.
Cherry teeth stained my fingers
when pitch black was grey
and knuckles were mesh.
I looked into the void
and the Void stole my eyes
even Nothing
refuses to acknowledge my presence.
Ashes of the past swim
with senseless future
filling a bowl chipped at the edges
It was time for dinner.
A song wailed across the
walls of the Universe
its screams filled my ears like water.
“Are you death?” I asked
To…to…
“Not death, but what follows,” said…said…
“What? Who?”
“You.”
“You.”
“You.”
Me.
I am before the tanks that grind my skull
after the flowers that choke my lungs
within the sun that scorches my open wounds.
Safe, saving, saviour?
L I E S
I’m the lacuna, whom the child
in me dreaded.
I fill the abyss
with my torn skin
and splintered bones.
Yes, I dreamt a dream so vile.
I am the knife that slayed me
The Judas who sold me
I burnt the curse that thrived in my cracked skull
I am the vulture who feasted on my intestines.
Was the wine that quenched my thirst merely a
vessel of my despair?
It was I, the toxic reaper, who cut through
a numb me.
How do I save myself,
if the poison…
…is me?
***
~Manushrie Verma
I imagine you to be canonized after years
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I laughed so hard when I read that! Thanks for flattering me! 💜
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Very powerful words, and raw emotions. Excellent writing! 🙂
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Thanks!
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Brilliant.
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Thanks 🙂
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Terrible and wonderful!
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That’s how I’d describe it too, if I were someone else. Thanks!
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vividly lived expression 🙂
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Thank you
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There may be poison in you, but the poison is not you.
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