Move on. O city, you
were not worth of...

To shut the methane,
you sent...

Your comatose
countenance...

It is raining.
The water colors...

There was an urgency-
to finish the job...

The tibial spiking
now hurts...

Skin bleached in moon,
you prepare yourself tonight to hit the mystry...

The bifurcation-
was complete...

The fresco had started
peeling off. I was...

To blunt the offence
of beautiful pain...

A breast bomb,
makes a sudden lunge...

The credibility
of an apple...