by Rhea Khandhar

Let the fragments of my skin flake away

Watch them flutter amidst the air,

As they descend, scraping the horizon’s surface,

And collect, to gather upon your eyelashes,

Like dust long formed on the ceiling drops

As the chap of my lips begin to further fold,

I quiver, screech and echo pleas,

To rid me of my desiccating coat.

My clutch remains compact on the pole of infinity,

I sense the needles and weathering,

From under the parched sheen of skin,

Inside me it claws and sibilates,

It rattles to scatter bits of demolition,

Letting the drought of skin to wilt is Sagguae,

Who begs in vehemence to be revealed,

And as my skin and innards turn to debris,

My mind runs about in circular fashion.

To unleash or to enshroud the beast?

To end the facade of ever-withering skin,

To let the spiders creep out loose,

To morph to the form of Sagguae,

It who scars and dispirits,

To let it leech and shatter you,

Yet all here that I can do

Is yell and await the eventual cracking,

Where the last bits of my dwindling cover,

Shall coat you and the cerulean below,

To finally let the leeches spill.



Rhea Khandhar is a new, young writer who enjoys writing about surreal concepts, consistently focusing on symbols and meaning in their art, which would be arguably quite apparent given that they've written the poem 'Lady Tegrre'. At the moment, they are a relatively new author.

Instagram: @flaekee

Twitter: @flaekee1

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