Rejected To Better

She thought she had surpassed fair to better,
fixed a new course to recover.
After the initial chapter that had gone downhill,
a black-colored glasses dimmed an odd level.
What seemed to be real was a mockery,
years of burden, a dark ghost entirely.
An ego fettered when no one has put her on a leash
is now a complacent terrain across the seas.

A Pacifier

The painting looks
idyllic when the night
starts to cradle
the edge of darkness,
even the vault of heaven
is choked up with the glut.

Inside a mouth,
a honey-fertilized tongue
is a comforter
of nothingness.

Her Poetry

Her poems are lies.
She is not a phrenic elderly woman,
she can kick the muse's tush
including yours without you
grasping it.
It can be cloaked with Gordian knot
and you will end up slicing it into half.

Babysit the wind-sound,
watch your steps on the sidewalk,
for a lone ant is zigzagging
on sizzling mid-day.

Although the punch line can split
in thin air but it is hammered
with reality.