Poetry

The numbers were going up 
and hallowed men were no─ 
more saints. 
 
You find that your shirt 
was stained. Now 
you talk 
to strangers. fear creeps─ 
under the skin. 
 
You come near each other in─ 
dark. Reverting yourself 
 
Against the wall of water as 
high as your ego. Epidural abscess─ 
a silence of unknown. 
 
Now, every hour you die. Light 
abducts the dreams. Nothing to- 
talk about the blitzkrieg.