Lockdown Poems II

She appears and disappears
like a childhood memory 
Her skies are silver, her voice 
Like that of the breeze.

She tells me tales of the forests
And secrets of the great seas
She knows the senses 
Of life, death and other miseries 
In the space between the note
And the sound, she hides; 
She fights the norms around,
All she says is through her craft 
She knows too much 
To sound profound.

Encrypted insecurities

Empty dark roads without streetlights.
Dry leaves envelop the human filth.
All movements have been erased.

For once though the world seems to behave:
That doing nothing is also a task.
Utopia must have surely looked like this-
One that does not flow,
Or changes its course.
Still. Like life itself.
Only the mind plays
Video games.
Perceptions, shards of broken mirrors,
Prejudice: An image is an image after all.
The Self is in inverted colours.

Absence has been my only presence
Erasing, Erasing; unremembering;
Eroding is but just time.

First, the presence
Disappears, then the flesh and the smell,
Voices, then the cybernetic letters;
Meaninglessness, possessive obsession, detachment,
Blended astute, into a loud sound of feedback
Encrypted insecurities
Disjoint vocabularies
Visions of my bare inabilities 

Opioid/ (Self-portrait 2020)

My mouth is dry
I do not trust this existence
I don’t trust myself most
I am not here
Just Caged
Lonely in a crowded image
Only bones
Broken teeth
Parched toes
Bitten fingers
Bitten skin

Tastes like charcoal
And I smell like decomposed fast food,

My eyes now blur
Conglomerate visions
Anger from the past
Dark circles
Fractured jawline
Melt into fluid

What is a good life?

Self-destructive dreams
Uncertain self,
By the present
A heart without any preservatives
Only a dark hole.

This organic genocide
Is a manifestation of my rage
My perception of this reality
My self-destructive traits.
For this existence, this certainty
Is my body; mind
Trembles, cruises through
The reverbed highways
Of nightmares
And distorted images
Of your past and mine,
Future, and the blood like present,
That I sometimes try to hold onto.
My everydayness,
My systemic aloneness
Now has a new name:
Washing, cleaning, sanitizing
Memory, promises and the unbearable
Burden of timekeeping: hours, days, weeks, months and years

Hair, Teeth,
Smell, touch, taste, feelings
Wash, clean, sanitize.
Segregate, disintegrate.
Healing is a myth
Death is utopia
Fear, a celebration
Insecurity is breathing
Estrangement, a rule
Love is murder.