I never expected to be loved
There are some shortcomings
And here I am
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.
Into a white tar pit
Evidence of Red Lipstick on the end of a cigarette butt
Craving for a hit
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
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
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.
“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
“I have shared secrets with you…”
“Oh Dead Mother!”
“Come have your pills. Depression doesn’t look good on you.”
“It’s just a coincidence that you wore red today.”
“I’m masturbating in public!”
“…And let’s abort this thing.”
“And why do you care that our generation is the worst?”
“You didn’t taste that way before…”
“And I’m learning more about you. Every time we feel each other.”
“Just remember– The Dream of a Green Sunday.”
“Meat has turned raw, my existence is a tragedy.”
“White-Chocolate Cheesecake is the escape, and I feel nothing for you.”
“There was love once…wasn’t there?”
“I think and there was an illusion.”
(c) A.R. Minhas 2019
They beheld me and I beheld you…
We are locked in each other’s web of
And I’m aroused by the Moon’s piercing light
And I’m blinded by your shadow.
You have eclipsed me
And I cower before your presence.
While my presence lingers somewhere down there
In the periphery
Hoping to communicate with you
But you are above it all
In a Heavenly sphere
And I’m stuck here in hellish cubicles
Recording death in its future states…
And yet I have found ways.
To smother death in its Afternoon Siestas
And all it would take to validate me
Validate me with your lips
A kiss so hard that it leaves me red all over
A kiss so hard my saliva makes iridescent rings with yours
Communicate with lips
And I’m Rebirthed
From the flood that consumes me
And I’m gurgling This song so perchance
You hear it And Validate
Continuously validate me
And validate my words
And keep validating me
Or I will be
An after thought
To be an after thought
Just like birth
Death happens suddenly
And it’s continuous on and on and on
These words aren’t mine
They are borrowed
In blood and all the unseen are the world’s thoughts
That gives substance to my words
But you so closely resemble myself
That I accept your inability to communicate with me
And your betrayal
© A.R. Minhas 2019
Buy my Artwork on Redbubble:
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
There’s a lesson at the bottom of the glass
I’ve hit my bubba pink
She delivers and they walk by
I’m like a GPS
My subconscious has taken a detour
Too hyperaware of everything
And I’ve never seen her walk
And she appeared like my words give her form
I’m dreaming again, but there is nothing between us
And I’m here again with you old friend
“I’ve stopped writing because I’ve stopped feeling…”
You paused and drank your Cappuccino
“It all comes back to you.”
Amsterdam big-wheel rolls on and
You’ve gone all responsible on me
How fucking dare you!
And you sit there counting your wrong decisions in the past
And I’m confused because all I’ve done is envy your capriciousness
And then I remembered
I wrote a poem the last time we came out here.
© A.R. Minhas
By: A.R. Minhas
She places the tools on the table
Unsheathe the rose petals
It’s time to use them
Droplets of wine that spill from the cup
Your thought pierces me
The Divine spirit soaring like a drone
The mystical explosion will destroy you in the vicinity
A guide that taps her cigarette
Three times and howl is heard
A burn mark shaped like a pentagram
The hands that show the path
As it was above
So it will be
If you find love, kiss me hard
With the tongue involved
A spiritual virus
Your red robes have been thrown in the forest
Be sure your nudity is seen by everyone
And the sigil is magnified
Is interested in you.
© A.R. Minhas 2018