The time we bare, and memories shared, make a friendship rare. But on one faithless day, some men who blended in, TRIED to take that away. You fought against death, and won in the end. Though when all was said and done, I somehow felt I hadn’t won. It’s as if I let you down, I don’t even belong in this town. So please come here. Take my place. Don’t be thrown here and there. In the end, I too fought death. But unlike you, my friend ! Death won the battle I was in. Overtook my mind, body, and soul, and took me to the grave.
It was a killing line. Walking on razor wire, when toes would not leave the sky and heels will not touch the ground. Myths and legends were becoming a witchcraft. Are you ready to eschew the classical script and write
Lipped-wet, Counterfeits. Fakes neither audible nor visible. The moment dies in our hands. It was a non- happening. Silence booms destroying the palace, of dreams. I should have become the scissors. This poem is not charitable gnawing at the underlip
(1) In old time, Before the sun stopped circling around us; Before it started to work as a painter of our shadows and the shadow of time over place; Before it adopted the hobby to boil sand inside a vessel
Dawn left bare bones Gave her his cruel temper, he, whom no one had ever loved Virgin’s blood shed not for pleasure but for body senses lust Flare of fire, modern world burnt Fugitives from Orion hide on Milky Way