by Satish Verma   Aug 14, 2013

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.

Satish Verma


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