Art of dying
comes, after...

Unshackled, the pallor moon
was lying still, in a white...

I was not afraid of the clock, ticking,
dividing your attention. A guarded...

Weep every don.
All the translations were fake...

When saline drowns the lips,
my words tremble...

Collecting the dirt,
a speechless drama unfolds...

Not a dog day-
after snapping. In...

Gold fringed, the hood
strikes. You are bound...

Widening the scope
you want to remain...

Shredding begins.
One by one all the leaves fall, like disrobing...

Yes it would remain
incomplete, my story...

Returning to the ragpicker
like a lone fly...