The wind is cream, it's scent fruit yogurt.
The rain the ash of a kindled comet.
The sun a thrill on planets face,
and winters chill in mellowed chase.

A flower's charm may draw you near.
Beware the bliss, the alluring veneer.
Darkness ripens in a world like this.

Oh darling,
I'm not at home,
If I'm not with you.
You're my polished floors,
My grand oak door.
The sweet luxury of my bed,
At the end of a long day of longing.
Warmth of my fireplace,
In the evening when not a worldly soul wakes.
When it comes to love,
I'm real picky,
I won't have it if it's not you.

Hands tied,
eyes sealed—
silence embraced.

A restless palace of words;
the crown is lost—
where could she be?

Heartbeat stirs,
memories emerge;
madam, are you asleep?

Parallel roads,
horizon’s hues—
where are you?

-mahat

You strike a matchstick
and name it hope—
watch the flame gnaw
its own tail, a hungry ouroboros.

Your hands tremble like cities
under siege.
The skyline cracks, a porcelain plate
held together by spider silk.

We are all archaeologists here,
digging through ash
for the bones of who we swore
we’d become.

Some nights, the moon is a pill
that won’t dissolve.
You swallow it anyway,
let its cold light pool in your ribs.

The world is a fever dream,
but listen—
even wildfires leave behind
soil thick with tomorrow.

So let your heart be a dandelion:
ugly, stubborn,
and impossibly
easy to love.

Capitalism works wonders
when you buy your soul again
after selling it to the black market
just to have two more people recognise you

Blood is just another shade of red
for the ties of the clowns with the formal attires
and suddenly everyone's accusing you again
for committing epicureanism
when you were just trying to
devour minimalism
with technology that
working hands got beaten up for

Everything violent is unacceptable
until economy craves it
then you can demolish the whole world

******* doesn't produce
enough serotonin anymore
after you've already licked
every coin you were given
and then you hear a child mourning
their stolen youth
but you're just upset because
I didn't identify their gender

You don't look good with tears
yet you whimper every time
you're not donated with a package
so pathetically sad
when the billionaire
blood feasting cooperation
doesn't acquire your fake money

And then your portrait
in your pseudo glass reality
seems to be getting old
even though they promised
that beauty hurts
but maintenance forges
your ideal mockery

O what a pity
seeing you so edible
yet so gory

I bet you're dating to colonise
and you charge for every kiss
you once assumed you had synesthesia
but you identified every sound and picture
with green
then you proceeded to commercialise
your exquisite palette
with food you yearned for
and with every drop of your saliva
a genocide began to emerge

Crying again you inject yourself with venom
that dances with your older genes that you'll never meet

O what a pity
seeing you so edible

is it considered cannibalism
for us to eat the rich
or for them
to fanatisize our hunger
through bread and circuses?