There they lay naked,
wearing a manicured coat
of orangish-pink.

Good morning, served cold
and a pair of eyes filled with
Bloodthirsty Khunnas.

Streetlights and headlamps
Pepper the film of wet smoke
Wafting from her lips

Shivers down the spine
The raspy touch of sharp blade
Scraping down the neck

As I walk the road
My footsteps spill, onto streets
Of distant cities

Yellow bulldozer
Crawling, like a living thing
That can reproduce

Papery grey ash
Sinking in the air, drowning
The mind in static

Stench of formalin
As I mend, with deep sutures
Life's littered limbs


Inspired by these words of @thy_me_basil.

A part of my mind
gets drenched in a falling rain,
that does not exist.

Coffee spots, ink blots
Colonise the petri dish
Of an idle mind

The scent of first rain
As my touch, pitter patters
Your unloved skin.