The cells,
climb the fame...
A mystical dialogue
in swirls...
Like today.
I walk myself, in my footprints...
Was it kosher to wake
up a sleeping poem, when...
You were shrinking
like microcephaly...
In-between the spaces
body moves...
Poised to confront
the improvised explosive device...
Between the hope and
betrayal lies the truth...
Night comes like a
black dog...
I will gather you-
through the uproar...
To become or not to become a renegade,
or to die or not to die for a semi-god...
A soft, but me,
black moon...