In transit of soul,
when you were under siege...

It was middle noon
on the deserted street...

Nonchalantly
you rip the smile off...

It was like homecoming of
timber rattle snake...

A fast in hurry. you
pretend that you...

It was getting dark.
The silence starts speaking...

Sitting on the hill,
nestled against the moon...

Fixing the dignity
like a fabulous sarcophagus...

A repressed scream.
Someone breaks the head...

Do not give credence
to mundanity. An iconic...

You are not
on my page...

Climbing
on the celestial pole...