_the_eternal_phoenix_

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  • _the_eternal_phoenix_ 49w

    How easily the paper carries
    the weight
    our hearts crush under everyday?

    ©_the_eternal_phoenix_

    Saisish
    February 15, 2021
    22:55 IST

    #writersnetwork #miraquill #mirakee
    Picture Credits : @missingframe (Instagram)

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  • _the_eternal_phoenix_ 51w

    She says she wants to know more about me.
    All about me.
    That she wants me to open up.
    She consoles my defenses concluding that it’s my response that has wrecked her like Titanic. 

    They all say. They all do.

    But how do I tell them that my tongue has ridges to modify the vocabulary my mind generates?

    How do I tell them that my body is a library that has been robbed overnight where trespassers stop by to burn marshmallows out of my empty shelves?

    Perplexed, they keep thinking of ways to comprehend me leaning against my railing but Darlin' how do I tell you that my arms are fragile balconies that will fall apart like columns of buildings when your earthquake love would set in?
    How every decibel of rumble would be muffled by my white noise?
    How every clash would reverberate with my innate denials?

    My mind is the store room corner set on ignition. My words are firewoods.
    But Darlin' my eyes have forgotten to storm.

    But yet every time I think of him I burn down a part of my chamber.
    Pull out the revolver and shoot myself until I die.
    Until I live again.
    Until I dry out storming even if I had forgotten how to storm.

    But how do I tell you that death and life are synonymous for someone who dies living everyday and lives dying everyday?

    And the days that pass by are like coffins closing on me at sunsets.

    -Saisish
    23:00 IST
    31/01/2021

    #mirakee #writersnetwork

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    We love who we love and there's not a thing we could do about it...

    ©_the_eternal_phoenix_

  • _the_eternal_phoenix_ 55w

    It was spring ‘99 when he realised he had a thing for flesh and bones that left him breathless for pleasure and pain. As he turns toward Jake basking in the sun beside him, enchanting him like centuries old mystery waiting to be solved he whiffs his cologne worshiping the cathedrals of his neck. With fears in between his fingers he takes hold of his fragile neck and rests his lips on his bare chest and sniffs his essence. His neck was carved out of structures that even God’s could not decipher.

    It was Hanover ‘99 and he had a thing for California sky and Italian alleys. Staring at the man inches away from him he realized how surreal it feels to look at someone you wish to grow old with when you know you might be a sin away from erecting tombstones in your graveyard. He was shamelessly starring at his oversized unbuttoned shirt that complemented his physique. He had been watching him all handsome since they held hands together all the way from downtown to their car; mustering courage to speak of his love.

    He stops for a while to witness moments of uncertainties consuming him as nature does to the last signature of our existence. His existence was a proof that no matter how gentle the river is the fountain will always come out fierce*. That the only way a sea can make love to the city** is by destroying it. That the only way you become one with universe is by loosing yourself to dust.

    Strangled by his thoughts he held Jake’s neck firmly and caressed it with his palm all over. Playing all the way up to his hair he sniffed eternity against his beard. Love blinds you to a new vision. How else would his lips climb against his to sing their union a prayer when his eyes were all lost? How else do you expect his fear stained fingers to come out clean from Jake’s hair as his eyes lamented battlecries of the lost?

    What if Jake loved him too? But what if he didn’t?

    With his cold trembling fingers he grabbed Jake’s neck gently all over again pushing past his boundaries and played with his hair as their lips slipped against each other. He savoured the libraries inside him that were mistaken for empty open closets.

    He kissed him madly, passionately and most importantly truly because what if their first kiss is his last good bye kiss?

    *SB
    **Christopher Poindexter

    Saisish
    31/12/20

    Picture Credits: Google
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #lgbtq #love

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    With his cold trembling fingers he grabbed Jake’s neck gently all over again pushing past his boundaries and played with his hair as their lips slipped against each other.
    He savoured the libraries inside him that were mistaken for empty open closets.

    ©_the_eternal_phoenix_

  • _the_eternal_phoenix_ 55w

    Fall 21 and my parents call me a Physics student.

    When I say I have finished an entire book on boundary conditions I mean to say I have trained my lifeless body to build more boundaries than all the books in the world ever can.
    When I say I love the night sky, I want you to understand how I have concatenated my fears under their illusion. How this rotting body held itself against the pressure from being gold when geometry is all it wanted to be.

    You see my professors say that it’s better to pursue what we think you might excel at instead of dancing to the chords of your own noise. When they say noise they mean the chaos that I come with when their strength to overpower me diminishes.

    Its fall 21 and I see my man sitting on the edge of a cliff with dark chocolates and a blood stained jacket over his shoulders.
    He watches me stride toward him and stares at me in ways, a desert longs for its sea that has forgotten it beyond touch. We transcend space to feel our bodies against each other; he embraces me. I feel his burning body against my cold skin and grab him even closer. “What is this all about?”, he asks me; his voice dampening. I curl up even tighter and could sense his rubbing palm reassuring me that nothing lasts an eternity.

    I push him away from me as gently as I can. I move away from him and his burning skin shrinks all frozen. My lips touch his cheek bone as I hold his triceps from reaching me.
    They travel all the way to his ears  and I ask him, “How does it feel? Left clueless to your circumstances; Devoid of love and physical affection?”

    He haunts me with his eyes and watches me all bare and starving. My wounded leg gives up and we coexist naked to our vulnerabilities. 

    Its fall 21 and we love each other in our jackets all bloody and shirts tied to our wounds. Our lips that recite your gospels are the same that taste like heaven when they touch each other.  Our voices are prayers we chant for survival.

    Its fall 21 and my parents kick me out of the orphanage they once called home.

    Its fall 21 and I fight for myself.
    Its fall 21 and we fight together.

    For the best of our lives.

    And for us
     

    Saisish
    20:02 IST
    03/01/2001

    Picture Credits: Google
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #lgbtq #love #peace #mathematics #life

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    Its fall 21 and we love each other in our jackets all bloody and shirts tied to our wounds.
    Our lips that recite your gospels are the same that taste like heaven when they touch each other.  
    Our voices are prayers we chant for survival.

    ©_the_eternal_phoenix_

  • _the_eternal_phoenix_ 55w

    Borders

    "We all have our fears Saisish, we all do", I convince throwing my hands up in the air with tears gleaming through my eyes.
    My eyes stare at the red traffic, thinking how I am a threat to myself.
    How we all are threat to ourselves at times.
    That how ardently we chase something we suspect might leave us digging earth.

    But what good is a tombstone to it's kind that yearns for life?
    We try to use metaphors, syllables, similes to give our sinking lives a volatile stand but what good is one where you struggle beneath chambers to get out?

    Tell me about your whiskey dripped hair when you passed outdoors thinking of old patterns as they stitch you inside out.
    Tell me how you changed not in days but in seconds of cosmic resurrection.

    I am no good a writer these days.
    With every break I have lost myself to inhumanity.
    Of smeared eyebrows and lips that bite themselves I chew blades and swallow them slow, allowing strokes of precision;
    I ask you, of what good is love?

    Saisish
    09:16 IST
    03/01/2020

    Picture Credits: Google
    #mirakee #writersnetwork #life #love #unrequited #death

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    We are Zombies
    Feeding on emotions
    Walking on this planet
    Calling it life

    ©_the_eternal_phoenix_

  • _the_eternal_phoenix_ 74w

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