On the battle turfs of a vernacular
hunger, the hikes were killing...

Will you walk with me
on the banks of a silent and invisible river...

Fear of a mound,
tumbling down...

Trapped in your body
a city starts...

The twisted moon
moved horizontally...

Night was descending
on the tonsured heads...

Last night
moon was following me...

In situ,
a pod holds a promise...

For death of conflicts,
and conflicts of death...

For the fusion of minds
let the long vigil of night begin...

Right on top, you were inching slowly.
United in hate...

Sky weeps, I was collecting clouds
from stillness of the sea...