Thinking Off •••

satishverma

I walk through the slush 
of moral grief. 
Here lies my mortal poem. 

A prodigal menace. 
You will not breathe in, the 
golden grass, once more. 
Lingering beside the past, the 
savage today. I pick up 
the silence of the tomb. 

Lateral conjugation. You 
come from the otherside to 
breach the wall, bear the 
pluralism― 

and become none. The under- 
belly, the yellow blood? 
Will you hold my hand 
to cross the meaning?

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 28th, 2018 19:20
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 35
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Comments +

Comments1

  • kevin browne

    of course, I'd help to think through the meanings with you and help guide each towards a better life. hand in hand of course. great writing, my friend.



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