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Poems :  Unhitching
Tags: Life  
 
You come home,
to a genocide of sperms.
A storm was brewing
to implode;
cloning a wooly origami.

What was the philosophy
of living indefinitely?
Silence was the biggest
noise of spoons.

You were not entitled
to inherit the state,
kissing the trophy of a
beggared man.

Detachment with
upholstery might work.
Take a candle and
read the name on the
black wall.

Satish Verma



Satish Verma

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satishverma
Author satishverma
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Date 2013/7/9 3:09:44
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Recents
In Nostalgia
Infinite Loss
Eyeshades
Where To Go
Your Philosophy
Random
One Empty Boat
Against Tattoos
NEVER TO SLEEP
LEFT THE BODY TO WATCH
OUTRAGEOUS
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