The assembeled evidence did not work
To save the skin, man was truthfully oblique.
Choiceless intimacy was more injurious.
I have not learnt the art of durability.
A good life tangles like a severed limb.
Name was tattoed before committing suicide.
It hailed like hell on haemorrhagic reaper.
Who will now call for spiritual healing ?
Where the window will open, I hardly care.
Tiger will be skinned alive for the taste.
Hope was not my forte and I was not a fake.
Still I threw myself in the river to sink.
I lived in a world of millions of pseudo names.
Silence was a potent absence I missed.
SATISH VERMA
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