HOLLOW NIGHT

Its dark in the night, unusually dark,;

and he is laying on the bed,

with limbs spread out like a venomous spider

hands curled like a snake.

It's cold and dark, darker than the night sky;

Darker than the dying coal,

the night hung open like a witch's darkest spell,

absorbing every colour and making it unbearable.

The hope is fading and the spell growing stronger.

He wants to curl back like a foetus, safe and warm ;

if only he knew.

The night carries hollowness in his heart, chocking the thoughts;

eyes blindfolded, wandering in a child's play.

Paint him blue, paint him red,

paint him white,  paint him gold, but not a drop of black.

Make him alive or let him die

HOW COULD HE?

How could he suddenly abandon her?

She is still the same person he fell in love with.

Her Kohl eyes are still smoky, her lips pale,

her fragile frame still stands firm when he wraps around him.

How could he abandon her when her bosom still gives him peace?

How could he abandon her?- when she has the same smile, same heart and,

the same warmth between her legs, he fell in love with.

How could he abandon her when she is the only one who takes all his worries away?

How Could He?

MY STRIPPER BOOK

A blank ruled sheet sits on the table;

fancy enough, like a tipsy stripper,

looking at the man, waiting to be lured.

Eyes drool as it stares back, hard enough;

asking my fingers to hold the pen and ink her,

just as a she commands the man to skip a note from the pocket.

My swaying fingers hold the pen, ready to write,

and the paper sighs!

Softly, as my fingers rub against it,

moaning, as the nib trickles it.

Words flow out like blood through veins;

handwriting fucked but no impression in vain;

As if in the final throws, the last world feels of life's first orgasm!