Otherworldly, tactile retraction
of rainbows,
from the eyes of believers.
Detachment of restless mind
at twilight, pot starts
boiling.
Sundowning, a paranoia
takes over, you suffer a childhood
near the pyre.
Thing is not a thing
exclusive of an extremist,
something burns inside me also.
The age of a tulip
moves backward; I, untethered,
float thoughtless in speech.
Satish Verma
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: March 5th, 2012 22:41
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
Offline)
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