Poetry

Slicing the red velvet
not drawing blood with your nails
you walk
on the body of compromise
kissing the fleece of death.

Untitled,
larger than life
unpresent, missed moments would take
the revenge from no thing.
The violence will end in a lake of tears.

The golden stick.
It was the hard bone which engaged
the furious beast in drowning boat.
Learning from dimension of pain
you draw a circle around you.

Satish Verma