chaiNboli

The world is ending and a kite without tail is sitting on a bus stop where women wearing baby teeth of their dead lovers and sons as their lockets bleed both with their vagina and heart. Revolution is snoring inside mosquito nets trying not to think about the white pigeons with kohl smudged eyes and red bullet flower on its chest. The world is ending and the assassins are ironing their angel gowns while my people are playing lucky draws with their backbones abandoned in the corner of a pawnshop. The little brides are playing with wooden dolls waiting for the monsoon rain to bath them Because their mothers are busy telling them That they don’t need any lessons on their first night and the other nights to come. The world is ending and democracy is in tour in a rented car, fingering half truths and shooing omens of it’s death. The child without lips is searching for cough syrup without realizing that dreams still call him “untouchable”. The wo...

  You pour bald promises, Sinking your eyes on my scars, The ring of your teeth on my hand; A leech kiss I loved. Master, why this banquet?* A lonely fish chews an orphaned poem, The words soft as a baby’s fist stuck on its throat, and they call it a suicide note. You strangle me between The white paws of old letters, Still on your play dress,   laughing at silky grass carpet. I drag my body into a shoe box Hoping to find a home for ourself, Only to laugh at the tickling of Your chocolate sweet arrows. You chatter like a small bird Waiting for my translation, Filling me with your feathers, Not minding the clans, we belong. In the dark glass house You are the carpenter trying to build A brave new world, Stretching the skin of oceans You failed to cross. You and I, Both on the two sides Of a corpse wall Tasting mercury fruits in a trance. My part still doesn’t belongs to me, It is a coin in your palm, Blood stained ...