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A nightmare
Folder:
Satish Verma The system aborts.
(Multiple organs failure)
A deviant art
of dying pompously.
I wish, I was on a ─
moving floor, sailing
without a walk, looking at
the camouflaged ceiling.
The shrill voice of a whistle─
blower, mimics an opera.
I will snatch the words,
raw, from your lips.
It was here, in absence.
Your poesy, matter-of-factly.
Can you raise your voice
against the fall of the thing.
Satish Verma
