Fear, Partitions and Damage by Aakriti Kuntal

Morning flicks her tongue around the curtain,
coffee with violets grazing
My arms, a sheath,
body velvet swimming around me, defenseless blanket

I am thrumming
as the mornings encroach my left bosom,
my dissected body shaking, blatant in its denial to sense reason

Cold and latent, ice blue, amphibian green,
icicles
f
a
l
L
from my mouth,
chunk after chunk,
my tongue strung to a second hemisphere
a constant too frigid to be forfeited now

I fold my arms, tape them to themselves,
To seize the bleed
from encircling all this fading life
This material wound
from (un)purchased dreams

I wear speech
in circles and patches, behind finicky windows
filming lavender saplings,
as my thighs grow transparent under
scattered blows of ashamed suns,
I wander in the echo of my footsteps,
and curl,
under the agony of diffused love

Fear stands,
almost fearless now
No different from the odor of my skin,
I seek its camouflage,
To anaesthetise the voracious thirst of my neonatal being

I wear fear around bunched fingers,
like ferns brown and fatal
Dissecting my yogurt eyes,
Blur,
blur,
fade the vision

I wear fear like a shield
/against/ myself
almost Like a preference
My body an occasion
of thunder
The lights continually
dripping
from my center
Harvesting
to draw this reeling sense of a fractured whole