Bittersweet

When one looks up at Eros, with that upward gaze

We’d embezzle beauty in soft lakes, vast vastless oceans

Soft like Gentle tense of fine, 

precipitate yet quenched pears of sand,

for they are pearls while harshly ubiquitous,

they were once cauterized,

having sensed a luculent sculpture, 

space time baby reaching out for a saturation he could never quite hold of, silicate, folding into that sensuous mist

For to possess,

had her eyes told, 

otiose and gale, a relic to nature past the heart makers and cardiologists,

to be obtuse and nascent, 

whilst within

our own dark dark circles of reason,

and an evergreen, sometimes,

the natal of orange, suckle now in mad yet incandescent shades of pure anger, knowing that living once and finite was but once a purine.

We’d embezzle beauty in soft lakes, and they are vast, liquid earth as a spasm of sphere, a dreary red top now miniscule in each heart’s lissom that now myrtles like a 

half sinking

Rhizome

Forever making us bittersweet, 

For being who we are

Reviews

[Neha agrawal]

This poem feels like a brain on fire — scientific, erotic, philosophical, and mournful all at once. It's a world unto itself. With a touch more structural editing or pruning, it could become a standout piece in a contemporary experimental collection or zine.