Private Parlance

How should I write
About my feelings
Which only want
Sacred nurturing
Private parlance.
Language singes my blood
My veins sing hallowed
songs
Beautiful reed pipes
Trilling epiphanies
In despair.
How shall I Dream
When living nightmares
Prick my flesh apart
Mottling bloody thoughts
Racking the brain box apart.

How shall I cry
Tears evoke mirth.
Helplessly hysterical

I shall hang up
My lifeline
Murder my muse
My amusement knows
No bounds.
My horror
Is guilt
Profound.

(c) Amrita Valan 2017