2 posts
  • tengoku 69w

    A Writer

    Every night I see a breathing corpse,
    sitting silently, piercing fingers in her own wounds.
    Accompanied by silence and loneliness,
    she immortalises deads in her lullabies and croons.

    Then she dips her fingers in blue pot of hope,
    and traces constellations of scars on her naked skin.
    She barely moves her lips and tongue,
    but touches souls through quill dancing on her finger tips.

    People serve her love garnished with lies,
    and stab knife in the middle to savour the taste of eternity.
    When her wounds scream and cry at night,
    she sings forever and rubs salt on them of memories.

    She puts rags and wears scent of nostalgia,
    polishes fantasies and dreams on the pupils of her eyes.
    She sharps her quill and dips it in her blood,
    then sets fire on paper between her single smile and sigh.

    She is afraid of comfort and healing,
    as she chooses bleeding over weeping through eyes.
    She chokes herself with warm scarf dipped in past,
    because a writer takes birth only when a human dies.


  • tengoku 122w


    It's been a long day without you, my friend
    And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again :)

    Read More

    Meet me
    where you lost me..

    Sing me a lullaby in
    between those lines
    of your poetry where
    you felt me
    for the last time.

    And push me in
    an endless sleep,
    with your dreams in
    my heart,
    with your aroma
    in my mind,
    with your
    reflection in my eyes.

    Kiss me where
    your forever ended,
    And seal my lips
    with your love.
    Fill them with
    your taste and leave
    them murmuring your
    name till they get
    cold and dry.

    Hug me where
    your promises
    of eternity died
    and my love is still alive.
    Whisper your
    silvery voice in
    my heart and pack
    it with your
    echo forever.

    Meet me where
    you lost me.
    Trace those lanes
    of my heart where
    you have never been.

    Find me among
    those dark lanes,
    and stuff me with
    your memories,
    memories of
    our first 'hi',
    to memories of
    our last 'bye'.