Sperms and legacy.
You scream for the justice
for the space between words
and sentences.
I don't want to be separated
from my half-eaten moon.
Without a dance
your anklets have broken into songs.
Someone commands me―
to sacrifice my pen.
Hallucinatory- be seduced for the sake of fashion.
In anguish I watch
the terror was becoming a religion.
Do you hear the voices
coming from the crypts?
Satish Verma