From the louring chest of dark hypocrisy, among the cries of almond faces,
In a city of gargantuan wars, where blood becomes the language of the tongue.
Turpid walls creak shallow hollows of empty noise,
A noise of silence. Noise of abhorrence sinking in the curves of my waistline
And a pervasive churning of petrified blood whirling in my stomach,
producing an array of shouts, stashed like a beetle leaf,
darkening the carvings of my arms, where wisdom is snatched,
where the star-dust fails, I stand in such a swamp of monotonous aversion,
sinking, numb, a broken piece,
A thorn on my chest, splinters of grey icicles in my mouth.
I wither like silent coffin,
I see it all, I see a grey, white slumber.
Hoping to slap dandelions on the darkest of the moon.
Devika Mathur resides in India and is a published poet, writer. Her works have been published in Madras Courier, Dying Dahlia Review, Pif Magazine, Spillwords, Duane's Poetree, Piker Press, Mojave heart review, Whisper and the Roar amongst various others. She is the founder of surreal poetry website "Olive skins" and writes at wordpress - my valiant soul.