Summer’s Shadowless Exit Wounds

Aahhhh the new theme looks beautiful!😍❤️

hey omg thanks so much.💓💓

transcript and taglist under the cut-

a mother’s defying, a mother’s demise.

most days,/ he doesn't swim in his grief. he sleeps on it,/ only to wake up with misery underneath him,/ hugging his torso, grasping his neck./ he says, clenching his hands to the bark of the neem tree,/ "my mother has left me in the backyard to sleep with no place to bury her"/ so, he is carrying her around on his tongue/ between the words he swallows and/ the food he spits out.// on the road are children throwing rocks at trains,/ a man hiding his guilt from the view, not letting it drift away/ as he cups his hands to light a cigarette./ holstering himself to the kitchen window, / the boy longs for the freedom of the man./ a rush of noise, he longs to scream:/ an act of expressing where he needn't pick a language.// her bed is made before he calls it a night./ he finds the same next day at 7./ most days,/ it feels as if she hasn't abandoned the walls./ the water in the taps still runs its course through the right drain./ it's as if she intended for him to suffocate in the mundane.// so, he tugs under her quilt she left to dry in the backyard/ the boy sleeps with the sound of crickets/ canceling the occasional unrest from the train tracks,/ canceling the occasional unrest from her mother's dreams.

tag list:

@ruins-of-heart @some-broken-words @rottensummerlove @floralbeast @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @riskanothergoodbye13 @hoeliterature @it-is-what-it-it-iss @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad (still not working????????)

hey guys! how are y’all? hope august is being nice to you. haven’t been able to post something in a while now because not sure what is happening with my writing. but don’t want this blog dying like me (literally sitting here, wrapped in a blanket with a bundle of tissue papers on either side because apparently u can catch severe cold in august!!!!). anyways, wanted to tell y’all that i’m very grateful for all the love that you have shown in these past months. love reading your tags in the reblogs. my heart just goes💓💓💓💓. would love to hear your questions, random stuff, poetry prompts or basically anything. my tag list requests are always open as well. drop by in the inbox/asks sometime! - akrati, xx

transcript:

summer’s shadowless exit wounds

august is shifting its entry wounds to october’s doors and the lines of your palms are telling you the number of summers you have spent in your shadow./ the essence of your mayhem is corpsing with sun’s each passing ray;/ the salivary savour of the right ingrown wisdom tooth has cut through your tongue./ in lieu of mango-lit dreamland hours, you are bleeding summer’s grass blades into bleached hair by the pumpkin moon./ the air doesn’t taste saline anymore. // the badlands bequeathed from your father’s lineage have traces ingrained/ even in your attic’s decades-old dust./ they are robbing you of yarns of your maternal grandma’s sarees./ and you’re tired./ you’re tired of helping your mother out to make space for every hand-me-downs/ she has been shoving under her bed. // summer did cut through like a knife/ but you had been stitching your outspoken words/ together to make sweeter sentences,/ so,/ when this year’s fall bids your birds goodbye, they wouldn’t be left with traces of your anomaly. the ones that flew out/ as soon as you opened yourself to the sun,/ for you have realised that the light/ can find you even with the curtains drawn./ there is no place to hide except for the sun’s mouth.// the top right foot of the dinning table/ has stopped creaking./ your grandfather passed away in July./ Chapatis in the house have/ thickened to the normal measure,/ so now,/ you won’t get called names on your bony frame. father sits in the bedroom, contemplating/ on the bait of his day’s sweat by/ the notes he gave out that day and the ones/ he will receive at the end of the month./ the dining table,/ now,/ sits empty in a muffled rattle.// your tongue tastes like/ the decayed French Marigolds/ you found in your late may’s school backpack./ its fragrance still travels through when/ you smell it in between the beige curtains/ of the attic’s room./ you are pondering on what must it be like to watch yourself sleep./ the heart is not heart shaped and/ you want to wash dishes with the foam/ but there are none left in the sink./ you haven’t eaten for 2 hours and,/ unlawfully,/ like an adult’s dream,/you are hungry again.

taglist under the cut! ( send an ask to be added removed.)

@champagnesrush @ch3rryblo55oms @ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @rottensummerlove @jules-hazard @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @floralbeast @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @parihumay (if anyone knows their moved blog, pls notify me)

hi!! I saw ur post and wanted to let u know that I enjoy ur writing sm and genuinely love when it pops up on my dash,,it’s always so touching and well-written and i fr find myself re-reading ur writing bc it’s so good :”)))) wishing u all the best and hope you get well soon!!!!

no im constantly enthralled by the positive energy u radiate over here! really hope u r doing good and love the way u write omg🙇🏻‍♀️💓💓so this coming from you is so wow. so grateful for you! love you<3

transcript and tag list under the cut! (ask to be added):

i am being in one but many forms

remember when it was about screaming once in two months? when i was not a big girl but my father was still old? when all the cheap porcelain was the centre of attention in our house? &, when there were no dolls but i wasn’t allowed to cross the road on my own?// i. the growing is like a venus flytrap: two-fold./ evil, like a fortnight before spring./ spring, like summer’s step-child./ when i remember/ my 8 years old shadow: i was becoming./ now, at 16, i want to be seen.// ii. the mirroring of another’s solitude was a/ foot less deep when i handed them my chocolate. now, i am making bread but to never consume. now, i don’t measure sugar/ or hear the alarm./ if it weren’t for the cries for 8 pm tv shows,/ i’d still be a little more tenuous./ i think a girl starts rotting when/ she feels blood in her body.// iii. not to say that i can lie today, but/ there was not much to lie about back then./ i broke a glass./ but another hand searched for the shards too./ and also! i never had to lie!/ my brother announced my mishaps/ before my mother even approached me.// iv. today, i do not lie on the ground/ but rush to the washroom to sit and stare./ i feel content when i grit my teeth/ & i don’t feel them breaking/ because,/ i always closed my mouth when i peed./ oh, don’t you know? my mother said/ it’s bad for your teeth when you let them be/ in the restroom. it weakens them./ “as if teeth are something that could be/ weaken! as if teeth have beards!”// v. to write nothing everyday is not a logic/ i want to normalise. but the thing is,/ it starts to feel ecstatic/ when i see a mirror & i stand to stare./ another being. same as me./ i exist,/ two fold: skin and bones./ tenuous: a rope tied to throat./ i exist./ i didn’t rot, i exist.

taglist: @ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @rottensummerlove @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @champagnesrush @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @ch3rryblo55oms @parihumay @jules-hazard @eveesque @wigilda @theazurepoet @star-dust-2317 @catguin-the-kitty-cat @a-smart-dumbass( still not working:((? )

Transcript and tag-list under the cut:

Finding Your Home

There’s smoke coming from across the pond,/ A pond that doesn’t harbour water anymore./ How tenebrous must it be:/ I inhale the factory./ The remnants of your glass beads,/ they fall into place, marking my path/ into the throat of words & winds/ & I step ahead to lean into the summer.// Birds, vultures, butterflies:/ You keep your promises intact, / Air still harbours you./ But I am escaping your field. Honey,/ I want to escape your field./ If only I could be so righteous,/ If only I could have indulged before your periods,/ A probable concrete must have been built./ My words could have never sunk in your flesh,/ our elbows wouldn’t have stung in water. //By each step, i am stepping afar/ from the transient blue dome./ Children, Mothers, Grandparents-/ All are holding hands to protect each other,/ -Our hands were tied to our shadows, / So when I stepped onto yours, I set you free.// Another break from the vicious beauty:/ A tree so beaten stands like an electric pole/ that infuses current, I shan’t say but,/ in me and you./ I tiptoe around its roots:/ How firm must it be?/ Is it you? / Is it you?// At last the mud is turning grey,// Two well lit candles are welcoming my plight.// I breathe in the wicks with my mouth & nose// & your dictionaries come into sight.// They are so indifferent to what you have spoken,// I need your voice to pronounce these words.// Scouring the stone house, I find a litany// that bylines your name prefixing ‘late’.// Feeling my heart dousing your walls,// I step outside to find a mausoleum. // Mangoes-/ Rotten Mangoes are fencing your grave./ I shut my nose to fixate my sight/ onto the path that I have yet to cover/ Lest your death may be a distraction./ Distraction destruction-/I never succumbed/ to the grass adorning my grave. What difference/ does it make?/ If I mustn’t lie with you,/Why shall mother earth/ take me in?

tagging: @carvedoutofpain @rottensummerlove @nochampagneonlyproblems @some-broken-words @ruins-of-heart @hoeliterature @floralbeast @starlightandnightbreeze @riskanothergoodbye13 @mydogisgaytoo @kajukatliontop

i have so many files in my notes app that mention/are based on summer. its really hard to bid something goodbye that was never meant to stay long when you live around people and not with them. i am stuck within a corner of myself that i have created by consuming deeply irreligious media which never bothers the ones i live around. i don’t know why i am writing this because this isn’t making sense but it’s supposed to. sun today here isn’t shinning and all the birds depart from the sky by 4:30 pm. the verandah echoes emptiness even though we have just hung a new swing, knowing we will hardly sit on it anymore. we tiptoe around tragedies every other moment but in this house we never speak of the real. i need to read books and consume mitski more. the gap between those parked cars is making me realize how much i crave for a tightly packed space with my neighbours. god is not around because i was dreaming of calm waters this morning as i woke up with a jolt and my body didn’t shiver. the days will grow darker tomorrow but today is almost over and nobody seems to acknowledge how much they miss it.

transcript and tag list under the cut:

Cacophonies of July

July has swept in like an unwanted stroke in a painting/ overshadowing the joys of June,/ breaking the eggshells on the kitchen counter into halves./ He wishes he had a bowl nearby to assemble the golden yolks./ The air is unbecoming, he cannot sense/ the rich yellow fibers in his mouth anymore.// Time is running on its course again,/ leaving him no choice but to breathe in the tram./ the dazzling sun is playing hide and seek./ The ground is demanding to be wet./ In the time of raging prickling sun,/ the ground is demanding to be wet.// He is turning over in between crimson sheets,/ a breath of fresh air and humidity, tepid skin./ The voices outside are muffling from siren roars/ as once again children step outside with/ a books-laden shoulders,/ not rainbow imprinted palms.// "I miss breathing in June. I will pine away July”,// The boy mumbles gazing hastily over the congested sink,// demanding repatriation in his anna’s house./ He is seeking patience in cowardice./ There's a little left for August’s arrival,/ he must seek patience in cowardice.

tag list:

@it-is-what-it-it-iss @floralbeast @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @riskanothergoodbye13 @hoeliterature @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @rottensummerlove @ruru-is-insane @a-moonlit-poet

shoot an ask if you want to be added or removed. thanks so much for reading. <3

gurl 😳😳 im going 💕💕💕💕 sending you a packet full of warm hugs as we speak<3

Sometimes I scroll through this silly little app and look at what my mutuals write and I am just. I am floored. The god damn talent you all have with words. And you share that talent with the world. For free. Like. Incredible.