I was not there
where you are...

Between the tears falls the non-vision.
I am scared...

The falling poem was
in bruising gamble of winter...

Walking alone in
the dishevelled inner space...

It was happening.
It was a perverse state...

The enormous evil pours
its darkness on streets...

Too many mongrels on road
chasing inbred hymens...

If the lineation wins,
I will not pardon myself...

How can you salvage the theme of god
from the forbidden knowledge...

I was very restless today
somebody had overplayed the hand...

Where the laughter ends,
sorrow makes an entry...

An answer becomes a question
without an effort...