Satish Verma

The particles, 
spreading a weird cult. 
You were colliding with moons 

It was a bird call 
under a gilded, cold, dark 
sky. The desire was immense 
than the meet. 

You just wanted to feel 
the hurt; flaunting an 
erosion. A coherently large 
body. Is that a mass- 

of goddammed invisible? 
It was my harvested pain, 
the lost virginity of a 
spot. The exit war starts 

for a gentle colossus.