Author Information
Time-Lapse
Folder:
Satish Verma The particles,
spreading a weird cult.
You were colliding with moons
daily.
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.
