A maverick―
neither tears, nor scabs
I wanted to cheat myself.
Confection may go awry.
I prepare the new text
of wearing the pain.
I want you to stay
beside me, when I am unseated―
holding the clouds.
Discarding golden viscera.
This was my last journey
for taking revenge.
Undulation over. There
will be a vertical
drop on the nails.
On the black stones a fig tree wavers.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: September 11th, 2019 19:20
- Category: Nature
- Views: 8
Offline)
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