Isolation

How long will you give me the lie?

Is it going to get better?

You told me to live every moment

And yet you steal it away from me

Whenever I’m thinking about you.

If this is what it takes

Then I don’t want to be happy

If it comes at a price.

If you have to pay for other parts separately.

You can keep it,

I rather be alone and miserable

Than make another soul bear my existence.

This ransom of affairs,

My body betrays me as it reaches out

You can’t fight nature.”

And with you

When do you plan on torturing me?

Tentacles laced with spiny roses

It’s ok

My heart has grown in an isolation tank.

It can only imagine possibilities

But it is familiar with the dark

Well-versed with the blackness of the universe.

It will evolve

My heart doesn’t need a body anymore

It just forgets from time to time.

(C) A.R. Minhas

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It’s Time To Sleep.

I knew what they said about me was true.

I don’t actively listen.

Conversations all hand gestures.

I will only disappoint you.

Maybe it’s time to sleep.

Put the phone away.

It’s no use. It’s not like words matter.

“Or more importantly the entity who speaks these words doesn’t matter.”

I’m tired and I can’t sleep.

All the blue light gets in the way.

Stimulated by connection.

I disconnected from you long ago.

I watch pornography on the phone.

“No! There isn’t anyone I would like to talk to.”

If only I got what I wanted.

Then there would be no need to make poetry.

Who knew living was a compromise?

Sweet death, the equanimity of the womb.

I gently drink that sugared coffee

In hopes that I can bathe in the

Cigarette infused sunset.

Everything is gone to ash

What else there is to say?

Maybe I can be foolish again.

(c) A.R. Minhas 2019

The Cologne That Got You Excited

You flutter

With the least bit of worry

And I’m weak-willed

Flowers

They expressed midnight with showers of orgasms.

I came on top of my tarot cards

And I saw the sharpest of reds.

Sigils that I marked you with

And your pussy tastes like the medicine I need.

Bitter sweet

And possibilities of

Of Children

We smoke till our lungs can’t carry the weight of our Ashes.

I meditate in the thorns of your pubic hair.

My head has a white hat and your breasts talk to me in sign language.

The warmth of your hands remind me of a purple color.

Let’s rest here on the pavement like beggars as we are crowned by the pirouettes of hungry moths.

I wish light to all

Also heart disease

Melt cheese with your mouth

And smell this cologne

Every breath is a sharp draw

Of the swords in the heart.

If this doesn’t make you hard nothing will.

(C) A.R. Minhas 2019

Fire Above, Water Below (Poetry)

Purchase Art

Your naked body

Against mine

Roof charred,

I can see your frames

Calcium deposits in your ears.

Unsteady legs,

Vertigo

“Our world collapses on ourselves.”

Did you dream of a tower?

Fire above

Explosion of lint

Torrents of water chew the wood

I present the creeping mold

“And what about my plants that I had kept for Feng Shui?”

They have succumbed to smoke inhalation.

The old you is dead.

A fetus was found in the flood.

It comes to term

The world is anew

And the summer child can’t stop laughing.

(C) A.R. Minhas

The Love I Expected.

I never expected to be loved

There are some shortcomings

And here I am

Still

Stuck in a glue trap

“Flesh imbued with pain.”

Heart doesn’t care anymore,

It barely pumps blood

And I hear it

Function like an abandoned beehive

Dust gets in your eyes

Flecks of honey distributed for hedonism.

And

I stare

Into a white tar pit

Evidence of Red Lipstick on the end of a cigarette butt

Craving for a hit

Nicotine oppression

A dream someone had dreamt before,

But the Queen pushes me away.

“These lungs aren’t going to immolate themselves.”

Ash trapped on my beard

The tower is burning

The entity free falls

No soft landing, tainted by love.

Ribcage is a prison,

And I’ve been institutionalized.

Leave my scrawl marks behind,

I don’t have any good memories to share.

(C) A.R. Minhas 2019

Goddess Sativa

She told me, and I didn’t believe her

“Use teeth next time”

Just to hurt more.

A heart doesn’t want to be sober

Like a trail of swollen lights

Blaspheming moths

Incinerated

Masturbating to their own destruction.

You hear the ventilation buzzing

A stutter of cicadas

Stroking to their vibrations

And I cum a purple substance

Goddess Sativa floating in my throat.

The stickiness of thought,

And a centipede spirals into my ear.

It whispers–

“I have stories about the crawl space in your mind that you don’t want to talk about.”

And then I laugh.

I laugh because it doesn’t mean anything.

And I should’ve believed her.

I don’t want to be sober.

I only want to worship you.

(c) A.R. Minhas 2019

Weird Eyes

If you had loved me hard enough

“Don’t say those words like an afterthought.”

I burn that flower at night time

The urgency of this message

I’m in love with being myself

Vaseline love,

Apply lotion to a dry heart.

See it through.

Evidence of bubblegum

Cardamom,

Say the word I’m there.

Wax spilt on black marble.

“You came with thundering applause.”

And I burst into you…

Tears

Wide Eyed, weird eyes

Drown

A gaggle of loud noises

Beautifying the porch

Cigarette bodies hidden

Beneath

Neon smoke

Up Above

My nose throbs for your loins

Teeth willing to pierce through

Skin

And then flesh

Blood caramel

Dripping from your lips.

I lay my head down

A disembodied voice

“Nostalgia keeps me alive.”

(c) A.R. Minhas 2019

Futile

Can you understand me?

‘Milk spilt in the hall.’

Dionysus cried himself to sleep.

Roses burning with a magnifying glass.

Melted sugar.

Come to the blue party.

Serotonin for you, and the light fades.

Blind
‘The head line dips to Luna.’

My delusions are mine to keep.

Share the kiss, never fall in Love.
Some people are blessed to be alone.

(c) A.R. Minhas 2019

A Room Full of Paintings

My Artwork Collage

I’m surrounded by all of you

The paintings that I don’t understand.

The paintings that you keep forcing down my head.

“What was your earliest memory?”

I was on a boat.

A net sank deep into the dark water,

And blood-red crabs emerged.

I said that, and a box full of change fell.

They echoed across the hallway.

“Sounds like Swedish wood.”

And we continue to miscommunicate.

The woman that is behind the painting

Blue and green, patterns of zygotes

Your eye keeps following me.

Your eye makes me hard and makes me desire death.

Curving a sickle to tear open guts.

Sun and steel, the body mimicking desire.

And I can’t stop thinking

What your eyes see, and if they are dilating because of me.

Are there any paintings left for us to Eat?

© A.R. Minhas 2018