Thrice fallen Sickening ‘love’ Love because There’s no Other word. Senseless unhinging; The soul’s Unwelcome apprentice Staggering eclipsing Penumbra of logic Piercing passions Affection infatuation Desires yearning For more than Mere skin. Oh, the skin… I can taste Your salt Remnant thoughts Linger quiver Each baptism Triggered by Scent — drowning Flooding my Nostrils and Unsuspecting brain As if She were Credulous. That kiss Staggering surprising Rattling knees The gliding Purple satin Caressing Hardening nipples His scent Intoxication annihilation The thorn in my heart Dousing my Spent body Invading tuberous-spores Washing winds Of ‘love’ Over goose-bumped Prickled skin Soaking my Soul in Heady wine Must touch Every part Of you Feel you move From the Inside Sink teeth Lick clean The elixir Of your Delicious dermis Worship at Your voice Wince, Quiver, Shiver Melt with Your touch Deep dive The waters Of those Eyes Cliches spin The broken Record of Human need Mine Greed for Contact Every inch Of fabled Chaos Chords Intensely tethered Holding me Hostage In bondage Abundant In my Gullible heart To the rest, stone. Each of You ferment Within me Blending a Fine concoction My own Special cask. Exclusive reclusive. Did you Know of My love Like that Superseding rejection Deflection, lies Your love’s Demise How even Now, and At the end of Each of Our times; All time I'd share My deathbed With All Of you Thrice over As one I'd welcome Your wives And embrace Them with The love That’s always Been more Than I Can handle Coursing through The nucleus Of every cell I’d open The damn For your Sweet loves Rippling it Out; a Tsunami blanket Of eternity In each Of your Arms of Ages Covered, devoured The love That never Dies… Except for Those times That mine saw it Vanish from Your eyes. It still Lives here… The apparition Of yours To my Widowed love Caressing my bones until They are Crumbs of History Dust on The wind. Unseen like That word Again… Love. I’ve opened My legs Danced with Tongues Split open Veins And my (Death) bed Would lay Open for You to Fill. Welcome mat Gormless Gullible Obsessively loyal Lovesick heart.
Pressing, softly through the cracks
Fragments of consciousness
Piston hissing speckled the dead-night
Moving electricity aside
She slips in like butter
Melting and reforming to what I once knew
She was melancholy like my heart
Sullen of soul
My scion mirror
The tunnel formed
Attuning the station
Between pre and post mortem
A hollow in this verse
A meeting place
We spoke about mortality
Not with words
It was all there, though
Moths fluttering in the air
It’s been a while…
Since we shared space
Since we shared time
She keeps reminding me, though
Those are figments...
Of faux comfort
Flimsy, weak cortex
It’s not everything
Not even close
The cat’s body is in the next room
Upon the pink bedspread
His marbled fur of coppers and black
Still as the void
I can look if I want, she tells me
He won’t stir yet
But I can’t leave
Paralysed in the serenity
Permeating from her form
There’s so much more to that cat
The sun seeps in
Glimmers strain against the sides
Fragments tear the space asunder
I’m here again…
© Natasha Sinclair
My drabble, Beneath the Mangoes, written for Insignia Stories upcoming Mythical Creatures of Asia anthology is featured on Insignia Stories site today! Original Post linked below.
Today’s Mythical Creatures of Asia drabble features the kapre, from Filipino mythology. Natasha Sinclair has three drabbles in this anthology, and is…Mythical Drabbles: ‘Beneath the Mangoes’ by Natasha Sinclair
We fell in love; free-falling into some unknown abyss. Her eyes were like staring into the universe; secrets intrigued, inspired, ghosts whispered. I was entirely enthralled, spinning through the dazzling, cataclysmic void of her soullessness.
Shelley said she was different from the others. When she eventually came out of the metaphorical coffin, I was hardly surprised. She feasted on me for hours when I bled. Thinking it just a kink at first, I went along with the proverbial flow. There are worse things than being with a vegetarian vampire; Shelley loves eating out, I can only oblige, she needs me.
Shadows engulf mother Earth, shade and still-cold stretch through half the globe as Batara Candra embraces her most impossible love, Batara Surya. Two halves of a singular coin. Coming together only briefly once every eighteen years. A passing lingering embrace that ripples waves of darkness, causing tides to threaten to turn, waves of anarchy and torrents of cold panic; what if they never let go?
Doomed love or doomed planet by total eclipse — an impossible love where no-one truly wins. Love must pass through the penumbra, saving this world from suffocating darkness or burning light.
Until next time, my love.
Concoction V2 is set for release, worldwide, on 17th January 2020!
I am really excited to get this collection of 12 short stories out there. The collection is diverse as each of the three writers take such a different approach to writing a piece. This is a cross-genre collection, which does make it a difficult one to market but I didn’t want to restrict the writers to come at a story to fit a confined space in this case – hence the Concoction Anthologies.
Available for pre-order now! Please check it out.
My first mini collection has been published and is now live. Paperback and eBook available worldwide.
Small poetry collection being released very soon, currently just awaiting the printed proof for final review before it goes live!
“This is a small eclectic collection from an Independent Scottish writer.
If you’re looking for inspirational poetry, words of deep wisdom, even good poetry, this book is probably not for you.
The contents are inspired by various topics including; mental ill health, relationships, lust, consumerism, commercialisation, veganism, family, death, politics and history.
While this collection is admittedly somewhat disjointed, it is also truly organic.”
A couple of writing and publishing projects are currently underway so I thought I would drop a brief update here.
The second ‘Concoction’ anthology is one which is scheduled for release December 2019. This time the prompts are most distinctly Scottish and will feature the same three writers as the first volume; G G Flavell, Natasha Sinclair and Andrew Taylor. As before it is open genre so we should expect a unique eclectic mix of stories. There is potential for a fourth writer to be added to the bill, will just have to see on that one. The initial story submissions have started coming in though and it’s looking pretty good! You can’t beat a good wee Ceilidh!
It is also very likely I will be releasing a mini collection of poetry and drabbles this year. These pieces have already been written, some have been published and some have never seen the light of day beyond the notebook. One again an eclectic little mix of material. Very organic in nature, as with my own style of writing. Themes running through those collected so far include; depression, relationships, politics, sex, freedom, nature and more.
Please look out for updates via here and on my Facebook page; https://www.facebook.com/NatashaSinclair/
Thank you, Natasha