The fish smell is pungent and strong
She Smells Like Fish
The flesh seller of women and animals
“Earth’s resting hymn”: Poetic Murmur 10
Log: 20/09/2023, 12:17 AM (IST), Cool Night
The axion sparks in the night. In fights of heart and doom, I fell to my knees like falling for the heap of bees, unleash the ecstasy of my gaze fazed, the kingdom windows close, curtains drop and my meat out, in tepid heat, gorging, catapulting, human skin wrapped in fragile layers, rare the sight of mistress, covered in river and sea grass, Could I be any more aroused?, forging heat and burning like coal, I need her scent to rest my heat, The girth envelopes, elope into an unfading kind of scent, the imagination, has paved its onset, in a morning so prone to lacklustre fierce aspiration behold and grown, affirmed, assuaged and asserted, born into fixated fish selling fragile class, she smells raw, like a dying fish out of the river, in ever constant fever. In ether we shall jump, triumph, the nexus of class consciousness. As I felt the rush, hush you go to earn bread by fake lusting your desire, Can I hire you, my beautiful queen? To keep you in palace sheen, if at all you do what your kin did, I will still pay you heed, as you look malnourished, in fish smell lapped and interlopped in its fins and skin unlayering..
it was never alive. So does the past after some point of time. Begones are waiting to die
Beyond the poem: This poetry piece talks about a prince who falls in love with a fish-selling woman and she has captivated his mind. He aspires to be with her one day breaking class structures and barriers. His ideas about their unison stand out as the lady belonged to a societal kin where their family women have a culture of prostitution, and he suspects she does it too. Yet, the prince does not care as the past should not influence the present today.
You can check the rest of Earth’s resting hymn poetic collection here:
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