The scorching sun, perturbed tidal waves beat like marching drums across the horizon. Leaf-lace, bottle bits, open wounds — newfound discoveries. This is the summer song, a cadet’s call for a voyage towards ubiquity. Yet the soldier is always so fragile — and home was never quite red brick and polished acacia floors; but the barefoot tread into the entrenches of a million little blades culling themselves in the midnight breeze. I feel like our rooftop was always meant to be the broad expanse of a million glowing torches, floating and beaming in little stardust trails. We find them so enticing we mouth little sounds and depress chapbooks with intonations until we find them tranquil enough to deem them as the ‘galaxies’; and in this way the solstice was born. An army spread about a million little shrivels of greenery stare at the droplets tracing their skin – they fall in love with the way their spine tingles at the ray’s fluid kisses; how the breeze comes every now and then and how the sky never seems to darken or give in. Summer is born and in its very birth it has been condemned to die.
Tag: poetry
Vows
Reading Time: 9 minutes
In the religion of my own we dance under the moonlight,
the hymns and prayers flooding the hallways like our voices
were beckoning the words of god.
writing dump; #1
Reading Time: 12 minutes
Teenage prose is raw, filled with emotion, parental problems, pure angst, or perhaps unadultered innocent love in every single beat and strand. These aren’t proofread, written in the spur of the moment and unedited (unless to add more lines) they are the pinnacle of raw feelings, in the loose form of words. Here is a dump of poetry made from about last Christmas day to the seventh of February.