Devika Mathur writes

Vintage Scars

The coruscating skins of skins often produce flames, flames of scars, memories,

A segment encrypted and deformed like petroleum jelly

Crisp, papercuts and unsaid gaze.

The cerulean orchid thumps against my white chin

knocking mysteries, opening perforated lies of life

Beneath the vapid thunders and above the summery pavements,

I listen to the jokes of past,

A facet of formations of conundrums and facts.

Rub, squeeze, swallow

Colour my collarbone with your hallucinations,

I am a crime in this heinous canvas of parasites,

I thrive and gulp

like a swollen raisin, I expect and expect.

After the process, I shatter like a needle pin

piercing Osmosis and perching

my Vintage scars.
 
 Like Parasites -- Andrea Castro